Tales from the Dark One
by rika08
Summary: Greetings Dearies, if you're reading this, that means you've started a quest to find a tale worth your attention. I suppose you could find this set of tales an excellent source of entertainment. But, a word of caution reader. this particular author is not known to be as forgiving as I've been known to be. Your humble servant of the dark, Rumpelstiltskin.
1. Greetings

_Greetings Dearies,_  
 _If you're reading this, it must mean you've come searching for news tales involving our beloved Swan Princess and her dashing, daring Pirate lover. But you didn't come here searching for just any old stories. Don't deny it. You've tired of reading every tiny detail, waiting on baited breath for what you've been promised. You want to get right to the source and fill whatever need it is that brought you here._  
 _A warning though, dearie. The tales in this book may not be what you've been searching for. You may have wanted a story that tugs at the very heart of your being, and surely this will deliver. However, it may not be the pull that you wanted. Oh, you can turn around and search for something else, it probably be safer for you. But admit, you've now gotten curious. And you know what they say about curiosity!_  
 _So here's my offer, decide whether you want to continue, or go back to the safety of the library. Stay, or go. Simple as that. But keep in minds dearies, if you do happen to choose to continue reading, just know that this particular author is not known to be as forgiving as I've been known to be._  
 _Choose carefully dearie, and remember, like magic, everything comes with a price. If you need me, just holler._  
 _Your humble servant of the dark,_  
 _Rumpelstiltskin._


	2. Unconventional Meeting

Killian Jones truly enjoyed his profession as a trauma specialist. He enjoyed the adrenaline filled work hours, forced to keep himself focused to save lives. Always ready, always on alert. Some people had warned him that with his already strenuous background, he should've chosen a more less strenuous profession. But Killian had been set on his profession since he left the Navy. Course, seeing as how the Navy had paid for his medical degree certainly didn't hurt either.  
No, he loved his career with a passion that hadn't been stomped out by what his profession threw his way. Not when a massive five car pile up ended with only three survivors, all passengers. Not when and entire family was admitted suffering from inhalation poisoning in a gas leak incident. And not when a school bus full on elementary age children turned in icy conditions. No matter how many lives were lost, there were always lives that were saved in the end. Those were the ones that Killian focused on. Those survivors that were lucky enough, strong enough, to make it another day.  
Still, it shouldn't be left unsaid that his job didn't leave Killian completely in tact. Physically it was the most strenuous job. Every day he barely made it home with enough strength to change, find something nutritious enough to eat, before collapsing into his bed. And usually, he never remembered hitting the bed.  
Killian yawned to himself as he turned the corner toward his apartment. He'd finished his last sixteen hour shift at the hospital and could now look forward to the next four days off. Four days in which he had a list of things to get through. First, though probably tied with second. Was grocery shopping. Then laundry.  
Killian eased the break as he rolled up to a red light. The roads were fairly empty at this hour. Which was why he enjoyed the night shifts that released him at five in the morning. Freedom right before the city woke up. Two more blocks and he was home free. Well, free enough to remember the outside world existed. Not that he had one outside of work. Sixteen hour shifts didn't leave much room for other things.  
As the green lights shifted to yellow, Killian readied himself to go. He heard the rumble or a motorcycle on his left. He turned to see it pull to a stop at the line, opting to wait for the next light. Killian wasn't too fond of motorbikes-a childhood trauma he was still overcoming-but he wouldn't deny the bike was a piece of art on the road. Nor did it hurt that the owner handled it like a dream. They clearly had the right amount of respect for their vehicle. The driver behind them, however, did not.  
Killian had treated on the scene of vehicle accidents numerous times. He'd volunteered to accompany the first responder team several times a year to add to his training. Accidents were nothing new to him. But witnessing them was something he never expected to see. The green sedan slammed into the back of the bike with more speed than an attentive driver would've allowed. The force shook the rider from their seat, sending them back first into the windshield of the sedan. The glass cracked under the force as the rider rolled off the windshield and down the back of the car. The rider hit the pavement and rolled only once more, before they came to a stop, lying on their back. The bike had toppled to its side and gotten caught in the undercarriage of the sedan, grinding against the pavement and preventing the sedan from hitting any other cars. The friction between the bike and road caught a great deal of sparks to catch and limited the sedans movements further. In under ten seconds, the entire accident ended.  
It was only another second later, that Killian's first responder training kicked in. He shut off his car and nearly shoved his door from its frame. He sprinted across the street. What was only twenty yards seemed more like one hundred as he crossed. His heart hammered its familiar rhythm within his chest.  
"Jones!"  
Killian quickly glanced to his right, catching sight of Doctor Victor Whale running toward him. Another trauma responder in the same hospital, the only difference what their shifts. "Call first responders and stay with the driver!"  
Killian rounded the sedan, taking note that the driver didn't seem to be injured too severely. However, he knew better than to solely rely on outward appearances of accident victims. Still, the driver was Victor's charge. The cyclist was his. He could see the faintest of movements coming from the cyclist, the pained clawing at the ground, as if they were trying to get a grip on their pain.  
He dropped to his knees by the cyclist and thanked god the rider had the good sense to wear a helmet. He'd seen far too many patients enter without a hope of surviving because they neglected to wear the damn thing. However, this one was impeding his work at the moment. He lifted the visor and was stunned to find a very conscious, very beautiful, and very injured young woman looking up at him. He could wisps of blond curls tucked beneath the damaged helmet. The rising sun cast a pale light over her skin and the street lights adding a haunting effect that was amplified further by the small trail of blood that rolled down the corner of her lips. Her chest staggered unnaturally as she tried to breathe, spurring Killian back to attention. He'd heard that far too many times, her lung wasn't getting any oxygen.  
"Ma'am, I'm a doctor. I'm here to help." he explained. He carefully reached down to her neck, checking for signs of injury or pain. "Can you tell me you name, lass?"  
"Mmmm." She winced as he reached her ribs. Her fingers curved into her palm. His own felt the change in her figure. It was just as he though, her fractured ribs had punctured her lung. "Mmmaa."  
"Sorry love." he apologized. "Whale, what's the responders ETA?"  
"Three minutes." Whale called from the sedan.  
Her gloved hand clasped his, forcing Killian to turn his attention to her face and not her wounds. She swallowed painfully, wincing through the attempt. Her lips parted to speak, but her words could barely be considered a whisper. The incoming ambulance nearly drowned out the growing crowd.  
Killian leaned closer to her lips. "Say again, love."  
 _"Emma."_


	3. Lake Nostos

He couldn't get the image out of his head. The haunted look of her hallow blue-green eyes, that had once lit up every fiber of his being, were seared into his mind. Following him like the plague, haunting him in his dreams. Her flush, soft, sandy colored skin had become pale and cold. It had lost its softness and become coarse and fragile. The golden curls of her hair, that had once glittered golden hues in the sunlight, were down dimmed and brittle. Every ounce of life within her had been taken from her. So slowly, so painfully, until there was only a shell of what remained of her. Of his love. Despite his best efforts to keep her strong, and those of the healers he'd sought, the sickness had spread through her, claimed nearly all of her. Pulling them apart at a pace that was so agonizingly slow, yet unexpectedly fast.  
He'd swore he was going to save her. He'd fought for her heart too long to lose her now. And any task that Killian Jones swore, were never failed. That was what had brought him to the shores of Lake Nostos, risking his very own life to save his love.  
He'd left the second he heard the tales of the waters healing power, giving his love a parting kiss, but promising he'd return.  
Night had fallen by the time Killian reached the lake. He stood on the back just a few steps between himself and the water, and whatever creature that stalked the water. The moons reflections glistened in the clear waters before him. Killian took a hesitant step forward, watching his surroundings, waiting for the beast to strike. When nothing came for him, Killian took another step, and then another. Until his boots touched the waters.  
Keeping on his guard, Killian reached for the water skin on his waist, and uncorked the stopper. He dipped the water skin beneath the surface. The startlingly sharp temperature of the water sent a chilling shiver coursing through Killian. At least, that was what he told himself. Kneeling by the waters edge in the darkness, Killian felt extremely exposed.  
A soft sound echoed across the lake, drawing Killian's attention. It sounded like a woman's sigh. The wind drifted through the trees, making the treetops dance above him. Cool air danced across his face, hauntingly similar to a soft caress. The sigh grew louder, trying to draw him in. It echoed all around him, mixing with the wind. Caressing his body, taunting his mind. Even with no word, the voice called out to him. The wind, her fingers, tugging at his arms, his neck, running through his hair.  
The water skin fell from his hand into the water. Killian drew his sword from its scabbard at his hip, clenching it tightly. "Reveal yourself, demon. I have no time for games of trickery."  
The wind danced around him with a laugh. It tugged at him face and neck one final time before drifting toward the center of the lake. It was there, that the waters motion drew Kilian's attention. No longer still, the water in the center of the lake churned unexpectedly. A light emerged beneath the surface, illuminating the lake further, yet gave no indication what was beneath the surface. For a moment, the lights intensity grew too much for Killian, forcing him to shield his eyes at the brightest point. He lowered his hand to find a woman rising from beneath the water.  
She was a stunning beauty. Long, flowing blond hair fell about her body. Slender curves gave her an impressive figure. She was dressed all in white, yet her sleeves glistened with what appeared to be diamonds. Her bodice was trimmed in silver, and around her waist appeared to be a small white fish net, accented with pearls and other sea gems. Atop her head was an intricate crown of flower shape sea glass. Several strands baring glass orbs hung down each side of her shapely face. Her rose colored lip turned up in a sultry smile that made Killian shiver unwantedly. Her hands rose from her side, her wrists turned up, as if she were welcoming him.  
"You summoned me, my lord." she whispered. Her voice was soft and sultry. She took a step toward the edge, her feet never dipped further below the surface as she moved. "What do you wish of me?"  
Killian lifted his sword, halting her progress toward him. "You can stay where you stand, demon. As I said, I have no time for your games."  
Her lithe fingers rose to the blade of his sword, caressing it as she would a lover. Her heated gaze never fell from Killian's as she brushed the sword away from her. "What game, could I possibly have to play, my lord?"  
"Perhaps a game to lower my guard and end my life-siren." He hissed. A life at sea has given him plenty of knowledge of the dangers of the water, both sea and fresh water.  
She smiled despite his remark and made another step toward him. "What good could come from death or such a strong, kind lord as yourself." Her hand came to his arm, above his elbow, and slowly traveled up to his shoulder. Killian suppressed a shudder at her touch. It was so bloody tempting, inviting-but a lie. Emma was depending on his return.  
He shoved her hand from his body and lifted his sword between them. "Enough! I will fall prey to your lies."  
Her eyes shifted before him. The light, sultry look had faded. She laughed darkly before him, taking a retreating step into the water. "You have a strong resolve," Another step. "but how strong" Another step. "is your heart?" She dipped her hands unto the water, cupping a small amount, and rose. Lifting her hands, she released the water over her face. With empty hands, the sirens arms fell to her side. She lowered her face to meet his gaze once more. No.  
Green eyes met blue. Golden strands curled around slender shoulder. Flush lips curved into a familiar smile. Gone were the pale strands and brittle skin. All signs of sickliness he'd last seen, gone. Gone was the demon and in its place stood-  
"Emma." he whispered.  
"You found me, Killian." Her voice was pure with a hint of laughter. She moved closer to him. "You always find me."  
"No." Killian closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. This wasn't real. She wasn't real. Emma was home. His Emma was home waiting for him. Dying without him. "You're not her."  
"Of course I am." She replied. Her warm skin came to his arms on either side, gipping him gently. Her hands came up on either side of his face, gently pulling him to her lips.  
The touch sent a shiver through him, deeply inhaling her sent. He hadn't felt her touch in months. His arm came around her waist, drawing her nearer as they moved deeper into the water. He'd missed the warmth of her skin, the tenderness in her touch, the softness of her lips. Her tongue begged entrance into his mouth and he found himself unable to deny her. He'd gone so long with those comforting caresses, he'd nearly forgotten how it felt. The last he'd felt was- Killian's eyes snapped open, rage churning side of him, and ripped the siren from him. He held both of her wrists in his left hand, gripping them tightly. This wasn't Emma. If he gave in, whatever Emma had been, would die with them both "You're not Emma."  
Sadness filled Emma's eyes. "How can you say that. I love you, Killian, please come back to me."  
"No you don't. A beast like you has no idea what love really is. To you, its just a toy to lure men to their deaths." Killian shook his head and pushed the siren further from, deeper into the water. "But I know what true love is. And unfortunately for you, I know how my Emma kisses."  
The sadness melted from her face. The siren Emma looked at him, dejected, yet smug. "Congratulations, Killian. You're the first."  
The siren threw herself at Killian with far more force than Killian had predicted. He stumbled backward into the water, losing his grasp on his sword. The water rushed over him, temporarily blinding him. He struggled against the siren's grasp, trying to pull her hands from him. She pushed him down against the lake bed, preventing him from going to the surface. Her lips press against his, throwing out an attempt to distract him from escaping. but it only served to distract the siren.  
Killian reached onto his belt, where he'd concealed a small dagger behind his back. He gripped the hilt of the dagger in his hand and slid it from its sheath. With it tightly grasp into his hand, Killian thrust the dagger up into the Siren's chest. The force pulled them apart, leaving a stunned, and bleeding Siren floating above him. Killian pushed her body aside and make a swim for the surface.  
His hands broke through first, touching the cold air just seconds before his head broke through the surface. Killian gasped for air, filling his lungs with the sharp coldness that surrounded him. He coughed for moment, trying to clear his lungs and regain his breathing. He was alive. He'd survived! Killian turned for the shore and touched the lakebed with his boots. He dragged his body back to the edge where the water skin still lay. Killian corked the water skin and attached it back on his belt. Returning the dagger to its sheath Killian turned his back to the lake. The demon would no longer bother another soul. And the lake would save one more.


	4. The Shelter

How had her life come to this? Sure, Emma's life had never been an easy one. Not from the moment she'd been born and left on the side of a highway, to her last foster home she'd ever stayed in. Nothing in her life was ever easy. But she never expected her life to reach this level of low.  
She sat with her ten year old son, Henry, tucked into her bruised rib on her left side while they were seated on one of the sofas in the back rooms at the women's shelter. Emma was sporting a two day old black eye and split lip that she absently licked in her distracted state. Her left hand had gone numb not long after she'd pulled Henry against her. He was her physical tether at the moment. The moment she let him go, everything in her would break.  
As if he sensed her train of thought, Henry adjusted himself against her. "He's not going to find us, mom."  
Emma closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay. "I know."  
"We've got a two day lead on him and he hates traveling north." Henry continued.  
Emma nodded and wiped away a runaway tear.  
Henry wrapped his arm around her, mindful of her throbbing ribs. "I won't let him hit you again."  
Emma's resolve shattered as she gripped Henry tighter. It was her job to protect him. She was the mother, his safety was her responsibility. He wasn't supposed to know. He was never supposed to have known. Henry was supposed to stay ignorant to the beating his step-dad gave her. But no, Henry had come home early from an after school creative writing class and found his mother pinned against the broken coffee table with his step-dad clutching her hair tightly. Emma barely remembered the incident, but she still remembered the sound of Henry's voice when he screamed at his step-dad to let her go. She remembered hearing Henry's charging steps, and hearing the resounding sound of her husband striking her son. That was when he let her go, pushing her down into the table for good measure, and stalked to the door. He'd had a business trip planned for the next few days. His carryon was already standing by the door. Emma managed to look up as he opened the door, muttering something under his breath as he slammed the door behind him. She listened to the sound of his footsteps. That was when Henry proved his knowledge beyond his years. He'd coaxed Emma up and got her to the car. Emma hadn't been aware they'd had a spare car, but upon searching through the glove compartments, the car was a rental. To make matters worse, Emma hadn't been in any condition to get them out of the city, which Henry took upon himself to do. With tinted windows, and the vigil of a saint, Henry had managed to drive them far enough for Emma to get back into the right state of mind before taking over again. And it was only a few more miles before she bothered to ask Henry where they were going. Henry had pulled out a back pack he'd stored in the back seat. There had been another one for her. Inside his was a series of papers about a battered women's shelter four hours from their home. Her son had been her hero today. She'd been a coward.  
A sharp knock on their door tore her from the events of the day. The door opened slowly, revealing one of the workers. Emma managed to remember the woman's name; Belle. "Emma?"  
"Yeah?"  
"There's a man here to see you." Belle explained.  
Panic started to rise within her. "Who?"  
"He says he's your ex-husband?" Belle replied with a confused look. "A uh...Killian Jones."  
Emma felt the air flee her lungs. "What?"  
Henry lifted his head from her shoulder. "I called dad when I found out. He picked out the rental car and help me get everything ready."  
Emma's eyes fell down to her son. "You called your father?" _Ex-step-father_.  
"We need him, mom." Henry whispered.  
Emma pulled Henry against her again.  
"Emma, do you want me to sent him away?" Belle asked.  
Emma released Henry and shook her head. "No. No I'll...I'll go talk to him." She lowered her feet onto the floor and managed to get to her feet. Her hands trembled at her sides and her ribs were throbbing badly. She looked back down at Henry. "Stay in our room."  
She could see that Henry wanted to protest, but didn't. For that Emma was thankful. She wasn't sure how things were going to go down with Killian and she didn't want Henry there if it turned bad.  
Emma followed Belle out of the room and paused for Belle to lock the door for safety. Belle led Emma toward the lobby where her ex waited. Emma sighed to herself. Killian was another notch in her screwed up life. Well, a notch that she'd caused. She'd met Killian when Henry was only two. She'd been waiting in line at the pharmacy to pick up henry's prescription. Henry had come down with a nasty respiratory infection. Emma had spend countless hours up trying to get him to calm down enough to sleep, but nothing worked. She was tired, sore, and desperate to make her baby well again. It killed her to see that her baby was hurting so much that she couldn't do anything to help him. When it was her turn to approach the counter, the diaper bag strap caught on one of the medicine display's and tipped over. The noise has scared Henry into another screaming fit, scattered countless boxes of medicine across the floor, and broken the strap. Emma had nearly collapsed into an emotional mess, had it not been for Killian. He had moved from behind her, he'd been waiting on his own prescription, and knelt down to pick up her bag before tidying up the mess. He'd even managed to calm Henry down enough for Emma to give him his medicine. Emma then offered to buy him coffee as a thank you, but Killian voted to wait until her son was better before taking her up on the offer. The result was his phone number scribbled onto his receipt and tucked into her pocket. Marrying Killian had been one of the best decision Emma had made, and leaving had been the worst. It wasn't that she didn't love him when they got divorced...something had happened to the two of them that neither could explain. They fought constantly, never taking cheap shots, and there were plenty of both of them to make, but it was never enough to push them for a divorce. They simply...fell apart. Killian thought it was because of the band, and thought Emma agreed, she wasn't going to let him give up his dream because of them. Both of them agreed it was for the best, though explaining that to a seven year old Henry, who only knew Killian as his dad, wasn't easy. Emma agreed to let Killian take Henry on weekends when he was touring, but that had changed when Emma married Walsh- another mistake on Emma's list.  
Emma absently rubbed her arms as the shivers ran down her back. How could she have been so stupid to stay with him? She should've left the first time he hit her.  
"Emma."  
Emma stopped dead in the middle of the hall. Four years and his voice still made her heart jump a little. Her hands gripped her arms tightly, turning her knuckled white. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, not wanting him to see her like this. She could still change her mind. She could turn around and got back to her room with Henry and plan their next move. She could be a coward and go back to Walsh. Or she could-  
A touch gently caressed her uninjured cheek, traveling down her jawline. Emma could resist the shiver that ran down her spine, nor the tremble in her jaw as he touched her. Her eyes fell shut as she lived in the moment, turning her chin toward his touch. His thumb came to her lips, avoiding the split, but gently stroking them. When his other hand gently touched her elbow, Emma allowed herself to open her eyes, immediately finding herself staring into the brilliant blue eyes of her ex. God why had she left him. He'd always made her feel wanted and safe. He'd put Emma and Henry first all throughout their marriage. Delayed tour days for conferences with the teachers, volunteered for events, and openly showed his love for his family. And she left him. Btu here he was, standing in front of her, caressing her as if nothing had changed between them. As if he was still in love with her.  
Fresh tears blurred Emma's view of him and she closed her eyes. Emma lowered her face into her hands and broke into sobs. There was no hesitation in the time it took for Killian to take he into his arms, nor for Emma to feel completely comfortable in his arms as she sobbed. With one hand on her back and other gently stroking her head, Killian gently soothed her.  
"It's gonna be alright, love." he whispered. "We're going home."


	5. Assassination

Emma tipped her head back, leaning her body back as the cool breeze fluttered across her shoulders. She arched her back, pulling her body forward, giving into the tug of gravity against her body. Emma opened her eyes, staring up at the blue sky and tightened her fingers around the ropes of her swing. With a swift kick of her bare feet, Emma swung herself higher.  
The airy overlay of teal and light blue material of her skirt fluttered in the breeze, floating up around her chest. Her feet swung beneath the heavy light blue satin. The sun shined down from above, bouncing off the beaded, blue, strapless bodice of her gown. The gown was far from comfortable, but it was not the most constricting gown she'd had to endure as a Princess. If the gown allowed enough motion for her to sit comfortably in her garden swing and allow herself the motions of enjoying her swing, the gown was permitted to be worn again.  
Emma stared yearningly up at the sky as she swung back and forth in the garden, surrounded by the varying fragrance of the flora. The garden was her favorite refuge when he room wasn't available, or when she couldn't stand the confines of her room. It was filled with trees and flowers from all over the realm and provided plenty of means of escape. As a child, Emma had used the gardens to pretend to be the hero in her own fairy tale. She was already a princess, she didn't want to wait for a man to come and save her. But as she grew up, that was what Emma began wishing for. A man to save her from the bore of palace living.  
Emma was by no means ungrateful for her lifestyle. She loved her family and staff dearly and treated them all with equal respect. She loved roaming the villages and spending time with the villagers. What she detested was the council meetings; the one's where they attempted to dictate her future to her. Arranged marriages, balls to meet suitors, alliances, they all became the reoccurring topic of council meetings that Emma had to endure. That was the kind of pressure she wanted to escape from. And she wanted it to stop.  
"Now what could possibly send the princess moping to her swing?" came the good natured voice of her father.  
Emma lowered her gaze to find her father standing just a few paces from her. His fur lined cloak, that he rarely went without, was nowhere to be seen. but he, like Emma, had been subjected to wearing finer clothing than a normal day within the palace called for. His doublet was made of fine ivory brocade and accented with golden thread. His ceremonial sash wasn't present, but the ever present sword, hung about his waist. Between her mother and her father, Emma knew she took after her father more. At least, in most of her appearances. She'd inherited his sandy colored hair, but had missed the blue eyes he shared with her younger brother.  
Her father took a step closer to the swing. "It's not even noon, there couldn't have been a curse befallen within the realm."  
A small smile pulled at Emma's lips. IT was moments like these when his father lived up the nickname her mother had given him when they first met. Granted, she had been sarcastic in naming him Charming.  
"And, you're too stubborn to listen to the repetitive diatribe of those stuffy councilors." Charming continued, moving behind Emma. He lifted his hands and gave her a gentle push. A light bout of laughter escaped Emma as she rose higher. "No, no, it must be a more serious matter. Possibly...concerning a naval Lieutenant?"  
Emma snapped her head around to look at her father so quickly, her tiara nearly flew from her head. And given that the tiara had been passed down to Snow by her mother, Emma knew better than to be reckless with it. What she didn't expect was to find her father smirking back at her. Then she realized her mistake, he'd set her up. "How did you know?"  
Charming chuckled and gave her another push. "You mean, beside your confession? I didn't...at first. But then, there's only so many times a carrier pigeon flies to the East Wing before it starts raising suspicions."  
With an embarrassed groan, Emma hung her head.  
"That, and he came to see me." Charming state.  
Jumping from the swing, with neither a care for her dress, nor her feet, Emma spun around and faced her father. "He what?"  
Charming straightened himself and placed a hand over Emma's. "He came to see me."  
"But the Jewel's not supposed to dock for another-" her sentence trailed off as she watched her father try not to smirk down at her. "He planned this."  
Charming shrugged. "Of course he did. Any man in his right mind would certainly plan something like this."  
"Then why are you telling me this?" Emma demanded. She was hardly furious, simply confused at what her father was doing.  
"I haven't told you anything more than that the Lieutenant came to see me." Charming explained. "You are the one insinuating things, sweetheart."  
As Emma processed his words, her figure deflated in defeat. Of course he'd been fooling her. As if Lieutenant Jones would even consider marrying her. He was a great hero in the kingdom.  
Spending three hundred years in Neverland to save his brother and crew was still a tale passed around the kingdom whenever the Jewel docked. But more than that, the crew had brought back valuable information and herbs that weren't found in the Enchanted Kingdom. The crew had returned, weary, but triumphant. But the shock of what had passed around them was more than they had expected. Her parents had done what they could for the crew, searching for the remnants of their families and compensating them for their mission. But there was only so much that could be done. Many of the men remained with the Navy, with Captain and Lieutenant Jones, upon the Jewel of the Realm. Emma had found the younger of the Jones brothers wandering the castle during the evening followed their return banquet. She had seen how unsettled he was and approached him. Killian had been startled to see the princess had caught him wandering and attempted to escape, but Emma had managed to stop him. She'd offered him an unbiased ear to talk to. To release three hundred years worth of emotions. After that night, Killian often sought out Emma, duties permitting of course, and the two formed a wonderful friendship. He'd written to her during his time at sea and she was a faithful correspondent in return.  
Emma had never intended to fall in love with Killian, but that was where she found herself. But she knew better than to expect anything from it. The council was pushing for her to marry, but Emma had rejected the suits of many prices and lords alike. None of them were to her what Killian was. But Killian would never see her more than a Princess whom he served. She was, still, a symbol of what had cost him three hundred years on a hellish island.  
Charming reached into his doublet and pulled out a folded handkerchief. He let his eye slinger on the object in his hand, and then hold it out to Emma.  
Emma frowned, taking in the handkerchiefs' appearance. "What-?"  
"Seeing as your Lieutenant couldn't attend your birthday ball last week, he asked me to pass this to you, along with his apologies for his absence." he explained.  
Emma sighed. "I told him not to bother. I knew he wouldn't be here." She reached for the handkerchief and found that it was weighted. Her frown deepened as Emma slowly opened the handkerchief. In the center of the blue embroidered cloth, was a small silver medallion on a long chain. Emma gently lifted the chain from the handkerchief and took in the details of the medallion. The edging was raised with a single swan raised in the center. His nickname for her. Every venture to the water always brought along a family of swan's that followed Emma around. Killian had found it amusing and often joked that the swan's must've been following Emma for her graceful instructions to benefit them.  
"Well, can't deny he has good taste." Charming said. He gently took the chain from Emma's hand and opened the clasp. He came up behind his daughter and draped the chain around her neck, securing the clasp. Emma brushed her hair from inside the chain and looked to where the pendant fell against her body. It came to a stop barely above the bodice. Emma looked expectantly at her father. "You look beautiful."  
Emma blushed and lowered her eyes.  
"Oh, there was one last piece in his message." Charming claimed, feigning forgetfulness. "He said, he'd be 'waiting for you in the library, council decision be damned'." Emma looked up at her father. Charming nodded slowly. "Frankly, I agree with him."  
Another smile pulled at Emma's lips. A soft laughed escaped as she threw her arms around her father. "Thank you!"  
Charming held her tightly in his arms. "When you find true love, you follow it. Duty and council be damned."  
"You sharing secrets again, papa?" Emma asked.  
Charming released her and met her gaze. "Not a secret, sweetheart, advice to live by. Now go on. Can't imagine you Lieutenant being kept by the council much longer Imagine his surprise when you beat him there."  
Emma laughed and pulled the skirt of her dress off the ground. She spun around and started running off in the direction of the library.  
"And put some shoes on before your mother see's you!" he called, causing another bout of laughter to burst from Emma.  
She could hardly contain her excitement as she ran through the palace toward the library. She ducked under servants that were preparing for tonight's ball, going as far as to duck beneath candelabra's and chairs being moved into the grand hall, where the ball was to take place. She rounded the final corner and came to a slow stop. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, a mix of excitement and exhaustion from running. Emma took a moment to fix her appearance. She set her dress in order, pulled up the sinking bodice, adjusted her neckless, and tamed her hair before she walked the remaining way to the library.  
With the ball that evening, the wing of the library was all but empty, providing a suitable amount of privacy. Inside the library there was more than enough secluded places. Plenty to hide and to observe. Emma playfully bit her lip, contemplating whether she should hide and watch, or be waiting in the open for Killian to arrive.  
A hand clamped, down hard, over her mouth, startling Emma from her thoughts. Emma inhaled sharply and reached for the hand over her mouth just as an explosion of pain erupted from her lower back. The hand over her mouth muffled her scream. She reached for the hand and tried to pry it away. Her back was on fire. Something was digging painfully into her back, forcefully pushing her forward, but the hand kept pulling her toward the pain again. Her vision blurred and her eyes stung as tears slipped down her face.  
"Hello Emma." came a low voice. It sent a violent chill running through Emma's spine. The hairs on her neck stood on end as fear bubbled inside her. She hadn't heard that voice in years, not since her father had sent the man away. He'd sworn they would never be rid of him. King George was not easily put off. But he was a very vengeful man. "I see you've grown up well."  
Whatever he had struck Emma with, a knife assumingly, he gave it a sharp twist. Another wave of anguish surged through Emma's body. She arched her back, only causing herself to arched further onto the blade. She cried out again, but that too had little effect of being noticed. He held her silent far too well.  
George ripped the knife from Emma's back, causing her to whimper. "A gift for your father."  
Emma felt the blade trail along her back. Beneath the pain, Emma felt a warmth trickle down her back. She pulled at his arm, desperately trying to free herself. She needed to get help, to get someone's attention. The traveling blade suddenly stopped on the right side of her back, several inches lower from the initial point. Emma took a deep breath, hoping to brace herself for what came next.  
The blade plunged up into her back, forcing the air from her lungs, far too quickly for her to attempt to scream. The hall blurred in her vision. Emma blinked several times, trying to bring the hall back into focus. She could barely find the strength to stand on her own. Her entire body was in agony and she growing cold. She needed to stop King George now.  
"For you mother." he hissed into her ear, slowly removing the knife.  
Emma took a shuddering breath, filling herself with as much air as she could, and closed her eyes. She thought back on her lessons with, her former grandmother, Regina. She felt the warmth fill her body as the knife was removed. Emma channeled the magic up into her hands.  
"And for you, Princess." he spat.  
Emma dropped her hands behind her back and released the magic. With a great force, George lost his grip on Emma and was thrown down the hall. The knife tumbled from his hands, clattering on the floor while the former king rolled along the stone floor. the magic had sent him a good distance from Emma, but it had also effected Emma. Without George to support her, Emma found her own stability impaired. She staggered forward and tried to catch herself on the decorative bureau that stood along the wall. But Emma hit at the wrong angle and instead of catching herself, her forehead struck the corner, causing an even disoriented vision in front of her. She collapsed onto the ground, crying out in pain.  
Emma lay on the floor for several silent moments. She could hear nothing of the ringing and pounding in her ears. She could feel nothing but the pain crippling her movements and the cold paralyzing her senses. A short, ragged breath escaped her lips.  
"What was that?"  
Killian!  
Emma opened her eyes quickly. She forced her body a few inches from the ground. Killian was some distance, by the sound of his voice, but she needed him now. She swallowed painfully, trying to block out the copper taste starting to creep upon her. She fought against the wave of dizziness that swept over her as she moved. Emma looked over her shoulder to where King George had fallen. The King had gotten back to his feet and was in the process of retrieving his knife. His eyes were filled with murder and vengeance.  
"Killian!" she screamed.  
"Emma!"  
"Princess!"  
Emma could hear several pairs of boots stomping across the stone toward the hall. King George looked over his shoulder for a moment, estimating how much time her had left. Emma could see him contemplating if he could kill her before the Jones brothers' could reach her. Unfortunately for Emma, he believed he could. He turned back toward her and stalked toward her. Emma tried to drag herself away. She didn't have the strength to conjure up her magic a second time. She clawed at the stone floor and tried to pushed her feet, but her skirt kept her feet from touching the floor.  
George grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Emma cried out in pain. The hall danced in a dizzying motion, nearly sending Emma unconscious, but she managed to hold her grasp on it a moment more. He lifted the knife above her chest, only to have the glinting blade of a sword pressed up against his throat.  
"I would gladly let a great many people give you the most painful of deaths, for what you've done." Liam Jones warned. "And not amount of guilt would ever allow me to regret it. But as your fate is not my decision, I suggest you step away from the princess, and drop the knife."  
Unable to complete his task, George rose from Emma's side and was forced back at sword point. The knife fell to the floor, clattering at his feet.  
"Guards!" Liam called. "We need help quickly!"  
"Emma!" Killian was by Emma's side in an instant, stripping himself of his naval coat. Fear laced his eyes and face. He carefully lifted her from the ground, his heart tearing in two at the pained cry that escaped her paling lips. He pressed his coat against her wounds and cradled her against him. "Stay with me love."  
Emma looked up at him. Oh how she'd missed him. Her lips trembled his cold. "You came for me."  
A small smile ghosted over Killian. "Course, love. I'll always come for you."


	6. Coward

Guilt knawed at ever fiber of Killians being. He was a complete failure. A disgrace to his oath as a Naval officer. Not fit to remain aboard the fleets best ship. He could barely contain his disgust with himself. All that kept him within the best state of mind, was knowing that she needed him. but had he not failed her, none this would have happened. The ship would not be traveling back toward the Enchanted Forest, the Princess would not have been kidnapped, she would not have tortured, and he would not see her in the state she was in.  
Killian could not take his eyes off the princess tortured form, desppite how much proriety called for it. Ever since he had rescued her, the princess had been taken to the captains cabin under orders. Once the ship's medic had taken to overseeing her condition, Killian had falled to the background, and there he remained, unable to move, uniformed stained with her blood.  
She was laid out on the bed, lying on her stomach, with a thin sheet drawn up to her hips to give her some for of privacy while ehr back was exposed. The remains of her shredded dress had been removed from her body and left in a mass on the floor beside the bed. Dozens of whip lashings marred her back, leaving a mutilated trail of destruciton in its wake. Each marking was different than the last, as if whomeer had tortured her hand't wanted her to get used to one form of the experiance. From shoulder to hip, the lashings covered her body, leaving a few stray lashings on her forearms and one on her right cheek.  
His line of sight shifted when his brother stepped in front of him. Killian shifted his attention to, not one his brother, but Captain as well. "Sir."  
"The dcotor with be with her for some time. Go clean yourself up." Liam said.  
Killian shook his head. "Someone needs to stay and watch the Princess-"  
"Emma is in very capable hands, Killian, you know this." Liam replied, foregoing any sense of rank. "You're the first perosn she'll want to see when she wakes up, and when she does it's best that you're not wearing a shirt with her blood on it."  
Killian looked down at his shirt. He'd removed his coat when he'd found Emma in her cell and used it to careflly bundle her up. His coat had contained most of the blood, but there was still plenty on the sleeves of his jacket and the base of his shirt. There was also plenty on his hands.  
Liam reached up and clasped Killiam on the shoulder. "Go. I'll watch over her 'til you return."  
Whether in defeat or acceptance, Killian didn't know, but he nodded to Liam before turning to the cabin door. Killian stepped out into the hall and made his way to his quarters. Around him sailors hustled about, set in retutning the princess home. Killian weaved around the men as he stepped bdelow deck once more. He pushed open the door to his cabin, saying nothing to passing men, though he was sure someone had made an attempt to talk to him. His entire body leaned against the door as it slid shut, secluding him from the rest of the crew. And there is where Killian's legs gave way. He sagged against the door, sliding down until he reached the floor. His chest heaved as he struggled to breath. His hands shook as he ran his fingers through his hair, not caring about the blood.  
Tears slipped from his tightly closed eyes, falling as he lost control over himself. Anguish and rage surged through his veins. Killian slammed the back of his head into the door, ignorning the echoing sound his skull made on impact. Maybe if he caused himself enough physical pain, he'd forget the emotional pain he was in right now. This was his own bloody fault. If he hadn't been a bloody coward, none of this would have happened. He should've just listened to Emma. If he had simply stood up to the council, requested an audience with her parents. If he had simply tried harder to be with her, she wouldn't be in this state. Her ship would never have been attacked by mercinaries, she would never have been taken, she wouldn't have been tortured, and he wouldn't be here.  
His disconnected reverie was broken by the sudden pounding against the door. The vibrations ran down the length of the door into the muscles of his back. Killian pulled himself from the door and opened his eyes.  
"Killian." Liam called.  
Kiilian inhaled deeply. "Aye?"  
The door creaked open, forcing Killian to shift himself from the door. Liam cautiously leaned in, but completely entered aftering seeing Killian on the floor. He closed the door behind him and joined his brother on the floor.  
"What's troubling you, brother?" he asked.  
A bitter, humorless snort escaped Killian before he could stop himself. "Beyond the obvious situation?" He shook his head. "She was right. I'm a bloody coward."  
"Killian-"  
"If I hadn't been so concerend about gaining the approval of the council, she would never have been in open waters." Killian stated. He shook his head again and ran his hands through his head.  
"You wanted to prove your intentions toward the princess." Liam replied. "You were honorable toward their requests."  
"And look where that honro has brougth us, brother?" Killian spat. He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "We're still miles within enemy territory with no aid to send for. We're still being hunted down and can easily be taken by pirates. And the princess is in a very bad state."  
Liam was silent while Killian ranted on. He could clearly see the guilt and pain that boiled inside his brother. It killed him to see his only family in so much torment, and even more since he could do very little to help him through it.  
"Why couldn't I believe I was enough for her." Killian asked. His voice was so quiet, so withdrawn, that Liam barely heard it over the movement of the crew. "She begged me not to leave, to not listen to the council. She told me that I was enough as I am. Why couldn't I listen to her?"  
"Because you needed to prove that you loved her." Liam said. "No just to the council, but to everyone who doubted you, and to yourself."  
"If I hadn't been so bloody-"  
Liam cut him off. "Let's say you did listen to her. You stayed and married her. With her status, she would have had to venture into open waters. Say that the ship was still attacked by mercinarries, ones that knew you had married the princess. The would have threatened you in an instant, just to gain her compliance. And the moment she gave in to their demands, your death sentance would've been carried out, and there would be no one that could heal her."  
Killian thought on his brothers words. Harsh and cryptic as they, he couldn't deny there was some form of truth within them. Even if he promised to protect her, Killian was still a man, and a man does have his limits.  
"That doesn't change the fact that we are still where we are.' Liam continued. "You rescued the princess, brother. No the crew, not myself, you did. You rescued her without a thought of your own safety because you love her. And there is no doubt in my mind that she returns those sentiments. And given all that she has been throuhg, you are who she will need."  
Killian nodded slowly, unable to trust his voice.  
Liam calsped his brother on the shoulder. "Now, get yourself cleaned up. your the first person she'll want to see."  
Liam rose to his feet and left Killian to himself once more. With a heavy sigh, Killian rose from the floor and walked to the wall containing the pitcher and basin. He dipped his hands into the water, ignoring the cold temperature. He scrubbed his hands raw until the blood had been washed away. He picked up a nearby cloth and dipped it in as well. He didn't want to risk missing any blood and have Emma find it. He washed his face and emptied the basin out through his window. He returned the basin back into the shelf and rid himself of his ruined shirt. The blood had set in and tehre would be no way of returning it to his prestine condition. He slipped the clean shirt over his body and carefully tucked it into his uniform.  
With one final sigh, Killian opened the door t his cabin and stepped out into the hall. He walked swiftly up on deck and made his way toward Liam's cabin. He stepped down the ladder and found the princess where she had been when he left. the doctor had washed away the blood and tended to the worst of the lashings. The deeper onces had been sewn shut while others where left to clot themself closed. The doctor continued to work, paying no heed to Killian. He moved silently, taking up a position on the floor by her head. He could easily situate himself in a chair, but on the floor he was level with her eyes. He cautiously reached for her hand, taking it into his. He was mindful of the bandage around her hand, a reprocussion of a misguided lashing.  
Killian watched as the princess slumbered in, what he hoped was, blissfull ignorance. He had no doubt of the pain she would be in once she regained conscious. And no matter how he desperately wished to see her stunnging green eyes, he prayed she would remain in ignorance for some time.  
Killian brushed several stray golden strands from her face and leaned toward her. "I'm right here love. And I'm not leaving you this time." He continued to watch her so reverently, he nearly missed the tightening grasp in his hand.


	7. Checking In

Hello Dearies,  
Thought I'd check in and see how many of you managed to stick around. Tell me, what it everythign you expected it would be? Have you had your fill of adventrues of our dashing Captian and the lost Princess? Well, seeing as how the author is feeling generous, and don't get used to that offer dearies, they've instructed me to inform you all, that if you feel so inclined to make a resquest, they will look into it. Who knows, you might even recieve a message from the author! Won't that be a surprise! Don't wait too long, the author isn't one to be kept waiting.  
Until next time Dearies,  
Rumpelstiltskin


	8. Full Moon

In the three hundred years of his existence Killian Jones knew how to recognize the difference within his life. He knew the difference between a gust of wind or a curse. He could recognize the enchanted forest in both forms. He could track a pack through the infinite forest and never lose his way. He had spent his years perfecting his new way of living, making the most of his cursed life. He knew all that his curse life entailed, and all the good he could take with it as well.  
Immortality, was one said gift. And had not left him wishing otherwise. There were time when his life had grown dull, watching the mortals pass by, but those times had been few an far between. Usually during the lapse in hunter replenishing their ranks to irradiate his kind.  
Killian sighed to himself and lifted his gaze toward the moon. It had been centuries ago, but he could still remember that first full moon he felt, the one that had turned him. He still remembered that power coursing through his body, the animal within him clawing to be free. He remembered every painful bit of his first transformation. Transforming was still painful, but it had faded by a great magnitude and most days, Killian barely paid it a second thought. Still, he could never fully escape the call of the full moon. All that kept him in his dashingly good looking human form, was his own sense of will.  
A sharp howl cut through the night air, alerting Killian to another kinds presence. Tilting his head, Killian turned toward the howls origin. It had to be near a two miles off. A newly turned wolf by the sound of its agony. The first was always the hardest. The older a person was, when changing, the more painful it became. Children were easier to turn, though Killian never tried to turn one. He'd never tried to turn anyone. Not a soul. He would not curse another life to his own. Leave that to the real monsters.  
Killian continued on his way through the moonlit forest. The sound of the lone wolf's howl accompanying him along the trail. His meager belongs were strung up in his satchel. There was not much Killian needed. The occasion called for clothes when he was forced to confront the humans. Or when he simply tired of his life in wolf form, as was his case now. Killian had become tired in his cursed life. His grip tightened on the strap of his satchel, trying to ignore the sounds of the lone wolf.  
It was then Killian noticed how the howl seemed to shift in the air. He'd heard it a time or two; the sound of a male in search for a mate. Killian suppressed a shudder and increased his pace. A male wolf was not one Killian wanted to meet. IF it caught his own scent, the male could easily be convinced that Killian was trespassing in the territory for the same purpose. Killian was in no mood to shift, or fight for his life. If this wolf sought out a nearby female, then Killian was more than willing to step aside.  
Suddenly a scream rang out through the entire forest, making every fiber of Killian stand frozen. His heart stilled within his chest as his blood turned cold. He knew every sound his cursed life had to offer. Especially he sound of fear from prey.  
Killian took off toward the scream. It came from the same direction as the first wolf. His satchel fell to the earth, left behind in a forgotten heap. He sprinted through the woods, letting his inhuman speed take him faster. He could smell the wolf, the woman, the blood. The forest blurred around him as he ran. He could smell her fear, her blood, her tears. he could smell it all as he raced closer. The animal within clawed for release. He felt his vision shifting, his claws emerged, fangs appearing.  
The trees thinned into a small clearing ahead of him. Already Killian could see the wolf towering over the woman. Her clothes had been reduced to mangled strips of fabric that barely covered her wounded body. One of the wolves claws held onto her thigh, embedded deep within her leg. Blood soaked the earth beneath the woman, staining not only her clothes, but the fur of the wolf above her.  
As Killian broke through the tree line, he shed his coat and shirt, allowing the shift to fully take control. His limbs and joint shifted as his fur coat covered his entire body. A threatening howl broke from his throat as she charged the white wolf. His powerful muscles pushed him faster as the white wolf finally realized his presence. Killian threw himself into the wolf, tearing it away from the woman. Their massive bodies rolled across the ground yards away from the woman. Killian brought himself to a halt first, driving his paws into the earth. He slid to a stop, placing himself between the wolf and the woman.  
The wolf rolled to a stop, disoriented and furious. He turned on Killian and snarled violently. Killian knew that sound too well. The wolf had claimed the woman as its mate. Intruding had made Killian a threat and there was only one way to proceed. Killian had made a point to never intrude in these aspects of his cursed life, but he had been raised with respect toward women, and that had not changed when he was cursed. Killian cast a glance over toward the woman. She was still on the ground, watching them. Her golden hair was littered with leaves and moss from the ground. Dirt and blood marred portions of her face. But her vibrant green eyes stared back at him. he had seen many looks from those that has seen him. From fear to disgust, anger to resent, but never what she had. He couldn't place the look that she had for him. And that stirred something inside him. Something that he hadn't felt in centuries. This woman had no knowledge of this wolf's curse, and therefore, was not to be forced into his life. He would protect her if it ended his cursed life. Turning his head back toward the white wolf, Killian snarled in return.  
Challenge accepted.  
The white wolf ripped his claws through the earth and charged Killian. Killian crouched low and leapt at his opponents middle. He slammed into him at full force, throwing the both of them further from the woman. Killian pinned him to the ground. The white wolf clawed at Killian, raking its claws down his back. Killian cringed, but gave no other indication the wolf had hurt him. Killian raked his own claws across the snout of the wolf, earning a pleasant yelp of pain. The wolf was a young one, newly turned and not yet in control of itself.  
Killian leapt off the wolf and backtracked toward the woman, his eyes never leaving the wolf. He growled deeply, warning the wolf to back off. 'You're not going anywhere near her, mate.'  
The white wolf rolled onto its stomach and snarled in reply. He wasn't ready to quit just yet. He darted toward Killian again, zig-zag-ing his way across the earth. Killian kept his eyes on him, anticipating where the young wolf would end up. He moved to intercept the wolf, only to have him change tactic at the last minute. The white wolf slammed its paws into Killian's back, forcing him to the ground, while he leapt over his body. Killian turned to see the wolf racing toward the woman!  
The woman was still lying where Killian had found her. Either fear or fascination had kept her in place, but the revelation of the wolf's return quickly swept across her face. She kicked her uninjured leg against the earth in an attempt to put distance between herself and her attacker. But her leg was not enough for her to move. Instead, she simply turned toward the earth, to at least give herself some protection.  
Killian sprinted toward the woman, pushing himself harder than he ever had. He leapt from the earth and slammed into the wolf. Both hit the ground near the woman, but Killian kicked the wolf over her, sending it crashing to the earth some distance away. He quickly placed himself between her and the wolf again.  
The woman slowly looked up form the ground between her tangled curtain of hair. She had expected to be attacked, only to find the other werewolf crouching nearby. Her breathing hitched in her chest, causing the black one to look down at her. Killian watched as she slightly flinched away from him. He stared her dead in the eye. He could see she was terrified. Scared for her life. But he could also see that she wasn't afraid of him. 'He's not going to hurt you anymore lass.'  
Killian turned and snarled once more at the white wolf.  
White slowly came to his feet and gave his head a slight shake. Dirt tumbled from his fir. His lips turned as he snarled in return. This was still far from over. Killian growled and stepped away from the woman. White took off charging for them once more. Killian ran toward, keeping himself between White and his prey. White attempted to leapt over Killian, but Killian had other plans. He opened his mouth and sunk his fangs into one of White's hind legs, dragging them both to the ground. White howled in pain and raked his claws across Killian's face. His claws sunk into Killian's cheek, trying to pry his jaws open. Killian bit harder, digging deeper into the muscles. The claws tore cross his face, over his eyes. A whine of pain escaped from Killian before he could stop himself. Blood poured from his wound, clouding up his vision in his left eye. Killian bite down even harder. The bone snapped from his own jaw strength, causing a monstrously pained howl to scream from white. Killian reached up and tore his claws across the lower portion of the leg.  
A broken bone was devastating for a werewolf in itself, but to cause more damage would certainly cripple it. And for what this monster had one to the young woman, Killian felt that White deserved everything Killian could managed. Killian released white from his grasp. White feebly attempted to crawl away. Blood gushed from the lacerations and gaping wound where the bone had broken through. White whined in pain and looked up at Killian. Killian crouched above the earth, growling lowly. White snarled and tried the slash his claws at Killian, but his crippled leg prevented him from reaching Killian. Killian slashed his own claws, tearing at White's arm. White whined again and finally yielded.  
With crippling wounds, White crawled off into the forest, leaving a trail of blood, and his victim behind him. Killian stood in the clearing, watching White until he was out of sight, and listened until he was out of hearing range. By the time White was no longer a threat, Killian and shifted back from monstrous form. His chest heaved, covered in blood and sweat. Most of his wounds had healed over again, but the blood still remained.  
A soft whimper dragged his attention behind him. He turned, quickly finding the woman still on the ground. She hadn't managed to put any distance between herself and them. Her body was slouched against the ground, no longer moving. Had it not been for the sound of her heartbeat, Killian would have started to panic. Well, more than he already was. He sprinted toward her, taking up his discarded shift and jacket. In seconds he closed the distance between them and fell to his knees beside her. He carefully turned her onto her back, unintentionally alerting her to her surroundings. The moment her green eyes found his, she tried to free herself from his hold. Her only result was angering her injured body. She was going to cause herself more harm.  
"Lass, I understand that you have no reason to trust me after you witnessed, but I'm trying to help." Killian pulled his hands from her body and grabbed his shirt. He quickly slipped it beneath her bleeding leg and tied it tightly. The woman screamed in agony and tried to push his hands from her. Killian still held her leg in his grasp. "If I don't stop the bleeding, love, you won't survive the night."  
His words seemed to shake some sense into her. She stopped resisting his help and relaxed her body as much as she could. With her, finally, relaxed, Killian had a moment to search for further injuries. Her dress had been ripped completely open on the right side, exposing her to the chilled air. There were smaller claw marks on her smooth stomach beneath her waist, the curve of her neck, even her collarbone. Killian suspected there were others that the woman managed to cover from sight. It filled him with disgust that someone could mutilate a woman who deserved to be worship. His gaze drifts up to her face only to find that her eyes have closed.  
"No, no, no." Killian calls. He lightly taps his fingers against her cheek. "Stay awake love. Stay with me."  
She moaned in response, her head slightly turning. She needs help now. Killian carefully lifted her back from the ground just enough to wrap her in his coat to stave off the chill. Once she was wrapped, he slid his right arm beneath her legs. Moving quickly, he lifted her from the ground. She moaned at the sudden motion, cringing in pain. Her face fell against his shoulder and her hand shook against his chest. He could smell the tears on the air.  
"I know, love. I'm sorry." he whispered, turning west. "Just hold on a little longer."


	9. Street Corner

Killian Jones sighed heavily and stretched out his next. His body ached from the days events and the car ride home wasn't helping. He'd had to chase down two fleeing suspects, one resulted in sliding on the concrete, and the other resulted in both him and the suspect going through the front window of a business. All Killian wanted to do now was go home, kick his shoes off, and collapse. Though with the way he was feeling as he drove, the order didn't necessarily matter.  
He pulled the car to a stop at the red light and stretched his neck again. He was really going to be sore in the morning. David was going to owe him for days.  
The light changed green and Killian started going again. He picked up speed on the empty road. Killian watched the area pass by him. It was a known prostitution neighborhood. He often saw at least five women working the stretch of sidewalk on one black. Usually, Killian made it a point to warn off the women with a flash of his badge, but it looked as if the cold weather had sent the ladies inside to work.  
A kid suddenly raced into the street just a few yards ahead of him. Killian slammed on the breaks, locking up his tires. Rubber scrapped across the street as the car came to a quick stop just a few inches from the boy, who had stumbled backward onto the street. Killian explained deeply and threw the car into park. He unbuckled himself and stepped out of the car.  
"Lad, are you out of your mind?" Killian demanded. "Do you know how close you were to taking a trip to the hospital?"  
It was then that Killian got a good look at the boy. He couldn't possibly be more than ten by the way he looked. He was dressed in a dark warm coat and clean jeans. Which told Killian that he wasn't a runaway. He had short dark hair that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was breathing heavily and looked absolutely terrified.  
Killian stepped closer to the boy. "Lad what's wrong?"  
the boy seemed to work through the shock of nearly getting run over. He looked up at Killian and scrambled up to his feet, still breathing heavily. "I...I need help. My mom...she's in trouble."  
Killian nodded slowly and knelt down in front of the boy. "Where is she?"  
The boy turned toward the sidewalk he'd just come from. "She's down there. In an alley behind the club."  
Killian frowned. That was well out of public sight, a perfect place for an ambush for anyone. The entire situation just seemed wrong.  
The boy seemed to sense Killian distrust. "Look, i know it seems like a trap, but I swear it isn't. Please, she's hurt real bad and I can't move her by myself!" Tears filled his eyes. The boy was either an excellent actor, or he was telling the truth.  
Either way, it was a risk Killian was going to take. He reached onto his waist and retrieved his gun. "Stay by the car. I mean it, lad."  
The boy was clearly put out by the notion of staying behind. "But-"  
"Lad, if what you're saying is true, then i need you to stay here where it's safe." Killian explained.  
The boy nodded. "She's behind the club, by the dumpster."  
Killian nodded. "I'll get your mum, lad. Just wait here." He gripped his gun tightly, and started walking on the sidewalk. He cast a glance bac at the boy, who had remained by the car. He was, however, standing as near to the sidewalk as he could, watching Killian with the most earnest stare. Killian turned and jogged down the sidewalk toward the alleyway, mentally trying to prepare himself for what he might find.  
He turned down into the alleyway and found darkness. There were spotted lights down the strip of the alley where the buildings back door were located. The alley was littered with trash. Dumpsters overflowed and cast a nasty smell in throughout the area. Killian looked back down the sidewalk and spotted the boy watching him on tip toes. Killian sighed and stepped deeper into the alley. He pulled his flash light from his pocket and let the light guide him.  
"Is there anyone here?" he called. He could hear a slight intake of air. There was definitely someone nearby. "I'm Detective Jones, I'm here to help."  
"Jones?" came a voice.  
Killian felt his blood run cold. He knew that voice all too well, knew the body it belonged to. A fiery spirited, golden haired young woman with the most intense green eyes he'd ever seen. She was a worker in the area, often standing in plain sight whenever Killian was on his way home. He'd told he to go home at least night, hoping she'd listen to him. Most nights she would strike up a little conversation before, partially, taking his advice and move on. Some night she pulled out every innuendo imaginable, jsut to get a rise out of him. She became the highlight of his day, whenever he saw her standing on the corner. Just seeing her alive, with her high risk job, it made feel better, if only a little. But she was the one soul he wanted to save, the one that simply didn't want to be saved.  
His feet were moving before Killian registered it. He found himself moving toward a nearby dumpster. The ground around it was littered with old flyers and newspapers. He shined his light on the ground and watched as the papers shifted, as if something moved beneath them. He took a hesitant step around the corner, using his gun at a point as he moved into the open, and found himself staring down at the battered form of a young woman.  
Golden strands of hair were matted and tangled in a mass. Fare skin was bruised black and blue around her left eye. her lip was split and glistened with fresh blood that had traveled down her chin. Her left arm was wrapped around her ribs while her legs were hidden beneath the trash. She was obviously trying to hide from someone.  
Killian lowered his light and gun, slipping them both back onto his waist, and knelt in front of the woman. "What have you gotten yourself into now, Swan?"  
Despite the injured lip, Emma Swan smirked at him in return. "You should see the other guy."  
Killian found himself giving a slight snort. "Of that, I have no doubt you bruised more than his ego."  
Emma started to laugh, but turned into a grimace when the action aggravated some injury.  
"What's the damage, Swan?" he asked.  
"Bruises mostly." she answered.  
Killian gave her a knowing look. There was more to her injuries, but she was simply being stubborn.  
"Mom!" came a frantic voice.  
Both Killian and Emma, looked toward the voice. Killian turned to see the boy racing toward them.  
"Henry?" Emma called.  
The boy, henry, appeared beside Killian.  
"Lad, I told you to wait by the car." Killian replied.  
But Henry was staring at his mother, even more frightened than when Killian had nearly hit him with the car. "He's coming. I saw him a few streets down, we have to go."  
The ease from Swan vanished completely and became cold. She reached out for Henry's hand. "Give me a hand."  
"who's coming?" Killian asked.  
"The guy who did this to me." she answered. She reached up for Henry's extended hand. She took a deep breath and pushed against the brick wall that was behind her. Killian watched as her face contorted in pain as she tried to rise. It was clear she was trying to get to her feet without putting too much strain on Henry.  
Killian eased her back onto the ground. "Anything broken?"  
Emma looked up at him with confusion. "What?"  
"Is there anything broken or possibly broken?"  
"Why?"  
"Her ribs and knee are the worst." Henry piped up on his left.  
Killian nodded. He slid his left arm beneath Emma's legs and placed the other arm around her back. Without a moments hesitation, Killian lifted Emma from the ground. Emma clenched her jaw tightly to keep from screaming, but couldn't stop the pain groan that came from her. Her left hand clutch his shoulder tightly, trembling from the pain. "Let's get you taken care of lass."  
Killian turned and headed toward the alley opening. Henry trailed closely beside him, keeping his eyes on his mom. Killian gaze shifted between Emma and her son, to their surroundings. He picked up the pace as they reached the sidewalk. the car was thirty yards from their position, in the open.  
Henry tensed beside Killian, gripping the arm that held Emma's legs. Killian looked down at the lad, who was looking behind them. without turning his head to acknowledge another presence, Killian noticed an oncoming figure in the corner of his eye.  
"Walk to the car lad." Killian instructed, turning toward the car. His training as an officer was quickly taking over. He was unarmed at the moment and had two civilians with him. His focus was on their safety. Once they were in the car, he could deal with the potential threat. "Don't look back. Do you understand?"  
Henry nodded and followed Killian, keeping his hand on his arm. Killian kept his steps quick, but mindful of Emma's wounds and Henry's pace. Both of them had grown tense and silent, increasing Killian anxiety. He needed to get them in the car now. With Emma in his arms, he wasn't able to get to his gun fast enough.  
"Hey!" came a sharp voice.  
Henry flinched beside him.  
"Keep walking, lad." Killian said. "You're doing brilliant."  
The car was ten yards from them.  
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" came the voice again.  
"Lad, get the back door for your mum." Killian ordered.  
Emma glanced over his shoulder to look behind. "Jones-"  
A hand quickly grabbed hold of Killian's left arm and pulled him around. The sheer force caused Killian to turn and stagger backward, jarring Emma against him. She grips him tighter as she presses her face into his chest to hide her moans. Her pained moans make him furious and gives him a VERY strong desire to break the mans nose.  
"The hell are you doin' with my girl and my kid, asshole?" the man demanded.  
Killian quickly looked the man over from head to toe, and was hardly threatened or intimidated by what he found. The man nearly matched his height, placing him on the shorter end of the scale beneath Killian. His dark hair was a mess of tangled strands that reached his dark eyes. Both shades were a dull brown color. The man wasn't large, but a decent stature. He definitely had some strength to him, enough to help himself in a fight, of that Killian was sure. But he wasn't made to endure. Tattered blue jeans, a grey shirt, and a black jacket completed the onceover, even going as far as to hinting at a transient lifestyle. But that didn't hide the bruised knuckles he sported on his right hand.  
"Apologies mate, but as you can see, the lass needs a doctor." Killian replied, not hiding the tension in his voice.  
The man quickly looked to Emma, giving her a look that made Killian want to ring his neck even more. He had seen it too often in domestic cases; possession, betrayal, fury, everything that could and would end a woman's life. "The hell you are. You're not taking her anywhere!" He stepped toward Killian, reaching out for Emma. "I'm taking her home."  
Killian took a step backward toward his car. He was a good couple of steps from his car. "It's bad form to leave a wounded lass out in the cold, mate. So forgive me if I want to ensure she's treated carefully."  
Emma shook her head against his chest. "Jones, this isn't worth it."  
"I beg to differ." Killian replied quietly. He took another step toward the car.  
"I don't think you're hearing me, mate. You're not taking my girl." The man's voice dripped with threats and warning. "Is that bitch really worth it."  
"Neal-" Emma started, but Killian's actions stopped her. He turned his back on Neal, which went against his training. Never turn your back on your perp, it could end your life. He quickly closed the distance between them and the car.  
"Hey!" Neal yelled. "I'm not done with you, asshole."  
Killian clenched his jaw tightly and carefully set Emma on her feet. He carefully leaned her against the body of his car. "I would watch my words, if I were you."  
"Jones, just let me go." Emma pleaded. Her eyes were mixed with both the physical pain she was in and the fear of what Neal was capable of doing.  
Killian shook his head. "Get in the car, love."  
"Hey!" Neal called. "Just because the bitch opens her legs for you, doesn't mean-"  
Whatever insult Neal had shattered when Killian's fist came flying into his face. The sound on bone on cartilage was nothing compared to the sound of the force breaking the cartilage. Neal's head wiped to the side as he stumbled from the force. He fell to his knees, clutching his face with one hand. Killian stood perfectly erect behind him, breathing heavily. Killian stormed toward Neal and grabbed him by the back of his collar. He heaved the man, as if he was a rag doll, head first onto the hood of his car. Neal groaned from the force. His nose bled profusely from the blow he'd taken, which then seemed to roll onto the car. Killian held him pinned to the hood and leaned down his ear.  
"Listen very carefully, mate." Killian hissed. "If I ever find that you've touched either of them again, I will throw into a cell with a few choice fellows and tell them just what your little hobby consists of. They're not too fond of abusers."  
"What are you?" Neal muttered. "A cop?"  
Killian pulled his badge from his waist and slammed it beside Neal's face. "Detective Jones, at your service." He lifted Neal from the hood and tossed him to the ground. "Now get the hell out of here."  
Neal struggled to get to his feet, but rise he did. He turned to take one final look at Emma. "This isn't over Emma. I will find you."  
Killian moved in front of Emma. "Not tonight, you won't."  
Neal shook his head and turned around. He staggered down the sidewalk, wiping away the blood from his face. Killian watched until Neal was out of sight, before he turned his attention back to the mother and son in his car. Henry was sitting in the car, watching through the open door. His eyes were still on Neal's retreating form. Emma had him more concerned. Her face was downcast, hidden beneath her tangled mess.  
"You alright?" he asked.  
Emma looked up to meet his eyes, revealing her tear streaked face. All the anger for Neal was sucked out of him in an instant. All he wanted to do was dry her tears and swear that everything would be alright.  
"What the hell was that?" she whispered, but her voice was still demanding. "Do you have any idea what he'll-"  
"He's not coming any where near the two of you again." Killian replied.  
"You don't know him." she replied. "The second we get out of the hospital he'll-"  
"I'm not taking you to the hospital, love." Killian stated. He closed the rear door and opened the passenger door. He carefully eased Emma into her seat and buckled her in. He locked the door and closed it before rushing into the car once more.  
"Where the hell are you going to take us?" Emma asked. "You're place?"  
"My partners, actually." he answered.  
Emma's eyes grew wide. "You can't be serious."  
Killian started the engine and took off down the street again. "His wife is a trauma nurse as the hospital. She can patch you up."  
"That's wonderful, but that doesn't mean we'll be safe after we leave." Emma replied.  
"Trust me, Swan, one night under Mary Margaret's care, and you're set for life with protection." Killian explain. "I've learned that first hand."  
Emma was silent in the passenger seat. For longer than Killian had anticipated. He wondered if she'd been inured worse than he realized until he looked over at her, and found that she was looking back at him.  
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. All traces of anger were gone, leaving her voice timid and shy.  
"Because no matter what choices you made, Swan. No matter what you did, no one deserves to live a life in fear. Every deserves to have a happy ending. And I want that for you."


	10. Olympus

Athena was a mystery to him. A puzzle. Her compassion for mortals, for morality and justice, for arts and skills perplexed him. She was a goddess of war, but she rallied not in the bloodshed, not for the lives lost, but for those saved through strategy. But she was goddess with furious temper. She was not vain, unlike Aphrodite, but she was not one to take insult without punishment. She was a force of nature. And she despised him effortlessly.  
Centuries of his relentless bloodlust in battle, affairs with their sister Aphrodite, sabotage attempts within the walls of her mortal cities, and unceasing attempt to seduce the virgin goddess had left the Goddess of Wisdom feeling more than a little contempt toward her male counterpart. Yet the more time Ares spent trying to bring Athena down in Zeus' opinion, he found her to be more intriguing with each confrontation, until he found himself in love with her.  
That was before Cronus escape from Tartarus. They had lived for so long under his imprisonment, not one believed that escape was possible from Tartarus. They were all taken unprepared for the vengeance that Cronus had planned. With an army of vengeful, tortured souls trapped within Tartarus, Cronus struck. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were the first to fall to Cronus' wrath, destroyed for their part in overthrowing their father. That had been the first strike against the Olympians, the first claim of war against the gods.  
Several Olympian had tried to form a truce with Cronus, others had tried to pledge their allegiance to him, and there were some that simply tried to flee. Each was met with the same reply, treated with the same mercilessness as the former King of Olympus. That was when the Olympians fought back.  
Without Zeus to lead them, the duty fell to her, his favorite child. Athena led the Olympians against Cronus and his army. And that was when Ares truly saw what his sister held within her. She was fury on the battlefield, mercilessly taking down Cronus' soldiers, wielding their fathers bolts. But her cunning and skills had not been enough to save them. The army had swarmed Olympus, broken through every line of defense, and driven back the Olympians in a slaughter until there were only a few left. Until only Athena and himself remained.  
They stood on one of the precipices, overlooking the mortal world. Bodies of Cronus' armies and Olympians lay about the floor within every wall of Olympus. Their armor was battered and covered in blood, their bodies were exhausted from the seemingly endless war. Ares knelt on one knee upon the ground while he braced his left arm on his left knee. With his right hand, he held his sword. Athena stood just an arms span on his right, gazing out from Olympus at the mortal land.  
"How much time do we have?" he asked, turning to her. "Before Cronus sends the next wave upon us?"  
"Not long." she replied.  
The sun was setting upon the earth once more, quite likely their final one, casting rays of golden light across her stunning face. Blood from endless hours of battle had saturated the hem of her dress entirely, leaving no space pure. Further up her dress, the purity of her white dress peeked beneath the blood. Most of the blood had come off her armor, but stained the cloth around it. Not even her lovely face had been spared of the blood of their enemies. Yet as she stood alongside him on the precipice, gazing down on the mortal for the last time, clothes in not just her own purity but the blood if their enemies, carrying herself as high as the day she was born, Ares found himself transfixed in a newfound alluring feature within her.  
It stirred something within him. Something he had never felt before. Not even Aphrodite has stirred just a passion-such a desperate longing- within him. In that moment, Ares didn't care if he would live to see the sun rise over the earth, so long as she saw it. Ares pushed himself from the ground, still holding his gaze upon her.  
The golden rays illuminated her alluring dark curls in a way he had only imagined during his nights with Aphrodite. She was all that he was not. Honorable, just, virtuous, a true warrior. If one of them survived this next assault from Cronus, it deserved to be her.  
Athena must've felt his transfixed gaze. She turned to him, casting new angles for the fading light to dance upon. Strands of hair had fallen during the fight and now danced in the wind. "What is it?"  
Ares reached his free hand to her face, gently brushing back the loose strands behind her ear. his fingers lingered as he drew his hand back, letting his fingertips dance across the smoothness he'd never felt before. "He was wrong."  
Her brows knitted together. "Who?"  
"Paris." Ares answered. "He was a fool not to see that you are far more exquisite than any on Olympus."  
Her lips parted as she took a stunned breath at his words. His thumb brushed over her soft lips. He'd imagined kissing her for centuries, living in the fantasy, living them through another. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in one final act and feel the touch of her lips before they died. But he had far too much respect for her, loved her far too much to take something that should be given freely. That was it! The final piece to the puzzle he had tried to solve for centuries. That was why she had never succumbed to him. That was what separated them from one another. He took and lived with the consequences. She lived with respect and wisdom in waiting.  
Ares leaned to her until his forehead touched hers. "We were all fools to never see your worth."


	11. Walkers

Richard Bach said, _'What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the masters calls a butterfly'._ Ten to one if Richard Bach had lived to see the future, he would have killed the caterpillar than turned the world into the nightmarish butterfly it is now.  
No one knows where the first epidemic started. There were theories floating around the net before the world went dark, but theories or truth about it won't save them now. The only thing anyone living could do was to find a safe place and hide. And don't get bit. Both of which was what kept Emma Swan staggering through the woods in northern Maine.  
Emma gasped for breath as she pushed her exhausted body through the woods. Her boot were laden with snow, weighing her legs down. Her tangled blonde hair was tossed about outside her grey beanie. She had nothing more than a tattered pair of jeans that she'd worn since the world had died, and they were barely held together by the thinning threads. Her right hand trembled in, not only cold, but from pain. The bandage was days old and needed changing if she didn't want to die from infection. Her left hand, and less dominant, carried her only means of defense. When her group ran low on ammunitions, Emma had volunteered to use the hunting knife and leave the bullets for people who were a better shot than her. She hadn't expected a dire need for them, nor for her pack.  
A heard of twenty walkers had spotted her during a scavenging expedition. Luckily, the herd had been too preoccupied with chasing her and not checking out the building where her team was resupplying. The woods had seemed like a good choice, as the snow had made walkers slower, but Emma hadn't counted on the snow slower her down as well. Days or sleepless nights, malnutrition, and freezing temperatures had taken a toll on her body. Emma could barely walk straight without risking falling into the snow.  
The snow continued to fall in heavy flakes, adding to the already difficult to navigate ground. Each step sent her foot plunging deeper than Emma had suggested and took more energy to remove. Her breaths came out in short, clouded bursts. Emma paused for a moment, pressing herself against the tree by her side. She looked back at the herd and smirked breathlessly. The walkers seemed to be having just as much trouble as she was. But they had chased her farther than she had imagined. She needed to get around them and regroup with her team.  
A cold hand clamped down on Emma's wrist, startling her. Her head snapped to the side, finding a stray walker coming around the tree. Its skin was a grey color and peeling from decay. Its mouth hung open, ready to sink its teeth into her arm. Emma quickly drove her knife into the walkers head and gave it a push off her body. But the force she used sent her off balance. Taking a step backward, Emma missed the difference in the terrain, more specifically, the slopped terrain. The toe of her boot skimmed the snow while the heel kept moving until her entire body tipped backward down the slow. Her back struck the earth first, knocking the breath from her lungs and sent her rolling down the snowy embankment. Her body rolled through ice encased branches and mounds that did nothing to slow her down. Her right foot hooked a hidden root and twisted her knee painfully, but was ripped out when she kept going. Snow and ice obscured her dizzying sight as she continued to roll. Her body reached the slight incline of the embankment before falling down onto a large boulder that separated her from the river. Her back struck first, bruising her ribs, and her skull struck last, sending her world into blackness.  
For a few silent moments, there was nothing. No sounds of walkers above, no sounds of life below. Emma's mouth quickly opened as she tried to gasp for air. Her ribs throbbed in agony with each inhale of her lungs. She opened her eyes, only to quickly shut them immediately. The light of the snow aggravated her spinning head. Her body was engulfed in an array of pain. From the stinging of the cold, to the tiny cuts from the ice, and finally to the body seizing pain in her left leg. With her eyes closed, Emma let her left hand probe her leg as far as she could reach without hurting her ribs further. Her fingertips skimmed along the wet material of her jeans until she felt something warm. Emma opened her eyes just enough to peek through her lids. Through the spinning world, Emma recognized her hunting knife embedded in her left thigh.  
She closed her eyes tightly and tipped her head against the boulder. She was screwed now. There was no way she could get back to camp in her condition. Worse, the walkers were still above the embankment, one staggering step would send the entire horde down on her. Her knife was now embedded in her leg, keeping her from bleeding out. Which also them prevented her from defending herself. She was a buffet laying in the snow. But that meant she had two options. One; pull out the knife and hope she bled to death before the walkers reached her. She didn't have any desire to feel what it was like to be eaten alive. Two; wait to be eaten alive. Although, if Emma was truly desperate, she could always crawl up the boulder and roll into the river. It would keep her out of the walkers reach and drowning or hypothermia aren't as painful as teeth.  
A familiar moan caught Emma's attention, causing her to open her eyes. Her vision hadn't steadied itself yet, but she could easily recognize the staggering of the walker just above her. It dropped down to its knees and grabbed her left ankle. Emma quickly lifted her good foot and slammed it into the walker's face. The crushed snow and ice ripped off the decaying flesh from where she'd kicked him, leaving only bone. She kicked it again, pulling her leg from its hold. Fire engulfed her leg and shot up her body. Emma cried out, but kicked the walker again. It tumbled a few feet from her, giving Emma the chance to move. One her good leg, Emma pushed herself up against the boulder. Her ribs radiated pain as she pressed her back against the stone. Her vision momentarily blurred in darkness from the pain, causing her ears to ring, and send her toppling over. Her right hand pressed against the boulder while her ribs pressed painfully against her lungs. A strangled wheezing breath escaped her lips.  
The walker returned to its feet and came at her. Emma quickly brought her arms up and held the walker at arms length. The walkers jaws snapped the open air, trying to sink its teeth into her face. Its hands clawed at her arms, trying to get a grip on her body. The pressure of its body on hers, antagonized her ribs further. Spots of light overtook her vision as the pain grew stronger than it ever had been. Her ribs seemed to bend against the rock the harder she was pushed against it. The walkers mouth was just inches from her face. She could smell its rancid flesh hovering over her.  
Suddenly the walker was pulled away from her. The sudden weight pinning her up against the boulder was gone, leaving her unbalanced against the boulder. She slid down the boulder onto the ground again. She wrapped her right arm around her ribs, gasping for breath, begging to be relieved of her pain. She opened her eyes and looked up. The walker stood a few feet from her, along with another person! A man stood on the other side of the walker, fending it off. He was dressed in black leather, torn and old from its use. A black scarf covered the lower have of his face, obscuring a clear picture of him. One hand was glad in a black glove, but the other, his left hand was replaced with a makeshift lance. He grabbed the walker by the neck and drove the blade through the eye. The groaning form the walker ceased instantly. The man removed the blade and released the walker, letting its body fall into the snow.  
The man turned away form the walker, his eyes immediately falling down on Emma. With the scar blocking his facial expression, Emma could only see the emotions in his eyes. He reached up with his right hand and pulled the black scarf from his face. His jaws was a chiseled square, dusted in a dark fuzz of scruff. His right cheek held a recent scar below his brilliant blue eye. His dark hair nearly reached his eyes, attempting to shadow them. He quickly knelt beside her, placing his hand on her ribs.  
Emma's body stiffed at the contact. She tried to hold back her wounded sound, but she's far too exhausted, thus the agonized cry was far louder than she wanted anyone to hear.  
"Apologies love," came a rough, accented voice. "but I have to be sure nothing's broken before I move you."  
Emma's chest buckled as she tried to ease her breathing. "For what?"  
"Can't leave you here for that horde." he answered. He carefully positioned himself by her side. "It'd be bad form."  
"Thought chivalry died when the world ended." Emma muttered. She leaned her head back against the boulder. She was too dizzy and exhausted to stay awake much longer. Her body was starting to shake badly, and all she wanted to do was sleep.  
The man lightly tapped her cheek. "Stay with me love. Can't let you fall asleep, no matter how much of a gentleman I am."  
Emma moaned and opened her eyes a fraction. "You make it your mission to save a woman in distress?"  
The man gave a slight smirk. "I do what I can, love. Names Killian Jones."  
"Swan." Emma gasped. "Emma Swan."  
"Let's get back to your people, Swan." Killian said.


	12. The Tower

Everyone stared. They stared at her scars, at her dress, at always stared when she entered the room. Her once enchanting green eyes, now hollow and lifeless. Her once flawless skin, now marred by dozens of lacertaions given by her captors. No matterr how the seamstresses tried to hide them, there was always a scar to be seen Beit on her back, her shoulder, or her cheek, not a day went by when an outsider did not see them. Eyes full of disghust, scorn, and cruelty. They whispered behind her back. Whispered of her promiscuous actions that had caused such markings. They whispered of untrue daliances with stable lads, Dukes, and even went so far as insinuating a liason with her captors. Women of the court shunned her and barred their children from keeping an aquaintence with the princess. Men only danced with her out of duty, rather than to enjoy her company. She now drowned in contemptment and suffered through pitty. No one seemed to see how she suffered through each day. No one but him.  
He always stood out of her sight and never took his eyes from her. It killed him time and time again to watch how she slipped further and further from his reach. It enfuriated him to watch their eyes, to hear their remarks of her. They knew nothing of their princess. They knew nothing of her suffering, of what really transpired months ago. They only cared that their princess was caught within a scandal. But what infuriated him more, was how silent the princess was. He knew that she knew about the rumors of her behavior, about her capture, but she did nothing. She simply removed herself from their presence and continued to wander through the remains of the party.  
The music came to a clsoe, ending the dance. Killian watched the duke, or whomever this man was, bow to the princess out of respect and flee from her presence. He watched the mans schooled features disappear as he returned to his men. He clenched his fist tightly, trying to reign in his temper. It would do no good to strike a man of stature, let alone in front of the princess in question. Killian moved from the columns shadow and slowly moved across the roon, follwing the princess' aimless wander.  
"Another moment longer and I would have broken protocol." came a sneering voice.  
Killian tilt his head a fraction and found that the voice came from the man whom had previously danced with the princess.  
"Protocol or not, I could barely stomach holding her." the man continued. "A fallen woman such as herself."  
"It is a wonder that her parents continue to send invitations for their wanton daughters birth." came another vioce. "Anyone else would have disowned such a child and left them to wallow in their ways."  
"I am under the impression that these balls are an attempt to wed the princess to prevent further humilliation for them." replied a third voice.  
The first voice laughed bitterly. "I hardly see that as a possibility. The princess has no ounce of virtue left to her name. Hardly fit to bear the title of a woman."  
Killian's rage surged through him. His fists were clenched tightly by his side. He could feel his nails cutting into his flesh.  
"I cannot name a single soul who would take a woman like her into marriage." the callous third voice said. "I suspect that she will most likely exchange her life in the palace for something more suitable to her lifestyle- a brothel perhaps?"  
The combination of their laguhter and cruel words snapped Killians restraint. He turned far quicker than he expected and landed a heavy blow to the nearest lord. It happened to be the scum that had just spoken. The man staggered backward from the blow, crashing into the refreshment table. The loud noise disrupted everyone, ceasing the current dance, and bringing all eyes to the scuttle, including the princess. The man on the floor held his jaw, clearly pained by the force of Killian's fist. his nose was bleeding, soiling the dress shirt he wore.  
His eyes lifted from the ground and reached Killian. "How dare you! i'll have your head for this!"  
"And I shall give far more if I ever hear you disgravce our princess' name again." Killian warned. "You scum no nothing of her."  
"We know enough." the first man replied. "She is not fit to be seen in public, nor in her position in this kingdom."  
"If their highness had any respect for their subjects they would-" The words of the second mand ended abruptly when Snow White jerked his head back and placed her husbands sword to his throat.  
"Tell, what is it that I am to do with my daughter?" She asked quietly. Her voice was as cold as her name suggested. There was no trace of benevolence that was so often heard. Her eyes were hard, prepared for battle. Killian had seen it many times when danger was close.  
"Captain Jones." King David called, appearing at Killian's side. "If you would see to it that these men are removed from the palace immedaitely. We will deal with them tomorrow."  
"Yes sir." Liam replied. He quickly signaled to several of his own men whom had been invited to the event, and surrounded the lords.  
"Your highness!" cried out one of them.  
"I suggest you go quietly," David replied. "my wife is still armed and I would only disarm her simply to end you myself."  
At that, all three men left the ballroom without another word. As the doors echoed closed, the orchestra struck up the music again, in attempts to continue with the ball. Most of the guests continued to watch the royals and Leuitenant, who was mentally beratting himself for losing control.  
"Your highness-"  
David held up his hand, immediately silencing him. "Killian, if you so much as try to apologize, I might call for your tongue. You have nothing to apologize for."  
"If I hadn't-"  
"If I had heard their words I certainly would have given them more than what you did." Snow said. she passed the sword back to her husband. "You stood up for Emma and her honor. That's more than many have done for her."  
At the mention of her name, Killian turned his attention back to where he'd last seen her, only to find the place empty. His eyes quickly scanned the entire ballroom, searching for the familair blonde hair, but found nothing. Panic began to set in. "Where is Emma?"  
Snow and David quickly turned thier attention to the ballroom, both searching fro their daught. Snow's stern face was quickly replaced by fear when she couldn't find her daguther.  
"David, where is she?" she asked.  
David shook his head. "She must've slippped out during the skuffle."  
"We need to find her." Killian said. He dove into the crowd, weaving through the guests toward the other side. He quickly moved to where he'd last seen her. She had come to one of the pillars, and then vanished. Killian moved behind the pillar and found a curtain of satin hanging against the wall. He pulled back the curtain and found one of the concealed doors.  
Killian pushed open the door and dove into the dark hall. The hall led to an acending staircase, Killian followed it up. He had walked the hall many times with Emma and knew its destination well, it led up to one of the towers. The one that overlooked the water. Panic fueled Killians steps as he climbed. He pushed himself off the wall, trying to pushed himself up the stairs faster. He came to the hatch, already open. He climbed out into the cool night air, and quickly found her.  
"Emma."  
Emma stood on the stone railing that seperated the inner tower from the open air. Her hands held her balanced against the tower posts. The skirt of her gown danced around her body in the night air. Her hair had been taken out from its orangments, concealing the scars on her back. Her body faced the water. The only indication that Emma had heard him was the slight turn of her head in his direction. It wasn't enough to see her face completely, but enough to catch a glimpse of tears on her cheek.  
Killian slowly emerged fully from the stairwell. He appraoched the railing with great caution, coming up to Emma on her left side. In her highest temper, Emma had been known to lash out with speeds that terrified her combat instructors. Killian had been on the recieving end of such an event on a few occassions. But this Emma, the one who teetered on the endge of the railing, her mind was something that Killian was not certain of. "Emma, what are doing?"  
Emma gave him no verbal answer, but he caught the sound of a sob.  
Killian came to the railing. His eyes took a brief glance over, absorbed the sheer hieght of the tower, and returnned his gaze to Emma. His heart shattered as he gazed up at her broken expression. Her eyes gazed longingly out in the distance with tears that silently fell from her hollow eyes.  
"Emma, please come down." he begged.  
Emma silently shook her head. "I can't."  
"Why?"  
"Because they're right." she whispered. "All of them. I don't belong here."  
"Yes you do." Killian insisted. "To hell with what they say, they don't know who you are."  
"Neither do I." Emma answered. "How can I be the daughter my parents raised now?"  
"They love you Emma."  
"The people are losing faith in them because of me."  
"Emma-"  
"I don't know what to live for." Emma said, silencing Killian. Her voice broke with each word that fell from her lips. "I don't...I don't have anyone, anymore."  
Killian watched her for what felt like an eternity. The magnitude of the depths of her depression plunged through his very soul that sent a surge of ice flooding his entire body. As he had kept his distance from her, giving her time to heal, he had unintentionally hurt her more than anyone else. He had allowed her to believe that he did not care for her, when in truth it was the closest thing to a lie.  
"You have me, love." Killian pleaded in a voice that could barely reach a desperate whisper. "You've always had me."  
Emma closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. Killian noticed how she leaned forward. His heart thundered inside his chest. flashes of years dspent toogether surged through his memory. Fencing, where he barely disarmed her. Sailing, where he saw her brightest smile. The first ball he ever attended, and coincidentally met her trying to escape. Every smile, every laugh, every tear, every angry word, evey word she ever uttered to him would end right before his eyes if she leaned out any further.  
"If anyone deserves to end their life, love, it's me." Killian replied, climbing up onto the railing beside her. He helf onto the pillar for balance as he righted himself. "I hurt you more than anyone anyone is jumping tongiht it should be me, Emma."  
Emma's eyes snapped opened, finding his instantly, and finding him alongside her. She moved to the right side of the railing. "What are you doing?"  
Killian took a calming breath, turned toward her, and released the dividing pillar. he watched as Emma's eyes widened at the sight of his action. "Everything that has happened has been because of me. I was too much of a coward to fight for what I wanted. Had I stood against the council and fought for you, as asked me- as you had begged me to-none of this would have happened. It is my fault, Emma."  
"Killian-"  
"I love you, Emma." Killian continued pleadingly. "I have loved you from the first time I saw you scaling down the garden wall to escape your ball. I loved you when I left you. And damnit, Emma, I will never stop loving you." He stared at her with deep pleading eyes. If he couldn't reach her then there was nothing left for him. There would never be anything that could make him feel like she did. "And I want nothing more than to be your reason to live on. But if I am not enough then I will jump with you. Because from the moment I met you, you became my life, Emma. And if I lose you, then there is nothing left for me.  
Emma watched him closesly. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, here eys filled with fear and uncertainty. Not once did Killian cower from the intensity of her gaze, but moved closer. Her lips trembled. "How? How can... how can you love me? Like this?  
"I will love you any and every way you are, Emma." Killian reached accross the empty air for her hand. "And will gladly spend the rest of my life showing you."  
Emma stared at his outstratched hand. A war seemed to break out within her mind. Killian could almost see the two sides within her warring over what should be done. He could see the desperate, hollow self wanting nothing more than to throw herself off the tower and be done. But there was also his Emma wantign to take his hand, to hold onto hope, and step down. And that was who he wanted back.  
"Please come back with me."  
Her breath hitched in her thorat and for one terrifying moment, Killian beleived she would leap. But it passed when her trembling hand reached into his. Without heistation, Killian quickly tightened his grasp on her hand and genlty ran his thumb over the back of her scared hand. He slowly stepped back into the tower, drawifn her back to the safety of the castle. Not once did he let her go, nor let his eyes wander from hers. Not once did he let her beleive that she was alone. Taking her by the waist, Killian drew her into his arms and pulled her against him. The first few seconds that followed were tense and silent until Emma shuddered against Killian's body, breaking to trembling sobs. Her arms tightened aroudn him, clinging to his as if her life depended on it. One arm came around her waist while the other cradled her head against him.  
"I love you, Emma." He whispered into her ear. "I love you."


	13. Second Glances

In three hundred years, there wasn't much that stirred Killian's heart. Yes he still lived by morals instilled in him, even cursed he wouldn't surrender those, but he found little to enjoy in his life. Until he heard her scream. He never forgot the way her voice sent fear into his heart and sent him running toward her. He never forgot the way she looked, bloody, scared, and wounded. And he never forgot the way he felt when he learned she had survived the night.  
After taking her to a safe house, one he had used a time or two, Killian had left her. Left to let her heal and attempt to move on with her life. He never expected to see her again, much less hear about her. But his visit with Widow Lucas and her granddaughter and taught him that she was not only alive, but a mother. A twisted parting gift from the wolf that had attacked and nearly killed her. The boy hadn't shown any signs of turning yet, but since Henry-that was apparently the boys name-and his mother frequented Lucas, they could easily keep track of him.  
It was on one of said visits that Killian caught his first glimpse of her in five years. As he cleared the forest on the path, he heard the sound of the door to the cottage open. He looked up to find the lad bursting from the cottage with a smile on his face. Young Red chased after him, laughing brightly. Then she emerged, standing tall and proud, bearing the marks of that terrifying night upon her face, and sending Killian's heart stuttering. She wore a light green sleeveless tunic. A dark brown leather corset held to the curves of her body. Her trouser were tighter than expected- though women weren't one to wear such clothing- yet they seemed to suit her perfectly. Her brilliant blonde hair was pulled into a braid that fell over her left shoulder.  
The beast within him suddenly surfed forth, trying to tears its way out. His nails shifted into claws. Killian doubled over, shuddering painfully. He sunk his claws into the tree in hopes that it might ground him better. Killian gasped for air. In over three hundred years he'd not once lost control as he was now. Killian couldn't explain why his beats fought to break free now of all times.  
Killian lifted his gaze back to the clearing, toward the Lucas home. His eyes once again, fell to woman. Her lips had turned up, forming the most stunning smile Killian had ever seen. He dug his nails deeper into the truck as the wolf raged inside of him. He wanted to go to her, reveal himself to her, protect her.  
Realization thus dawned on him. Protection. The beast was protective of this woman. He had first met her in her time of need, where another wolf claimed her as his mate, and he intervened. He'd protected her; and won. He was now tied to her. By all rights she was now his mate. Driven not just to protect her, but more. An ever present shadow to follow her.  
As if sensing his presence, the woman looked up. There was no amount of distance that could force him to forget the color of her eyes. Brilliant green iris' bore into his own gaze, holding him captive. He could feel the beast quiet itself, feel his claws retract as she held him in her captivating gaze. For a moment, Killian believed that she was ignorant of his identity. Just another passerby that knew Widow Lucas and Red. But as the seconds ticked by, he watched the recognition sweep over her face.  
With a burst of speed, she took off toward him. Killian pushed off the tree and turned back toward the woods. As he tried to race off, away from this woman, he found the wolf was fighting to go back to her. Her footsteps grew closer as he wrestled with himself. He couldn't face her. Not now. He leapt up into the nearest tree an pressed himself against its trunk.  
She broke into the clearing some distance below him. She ran several steps deeper before she paused. She turned around in circles, seemingly searching for something. She turned several times, but found nothing.  
"Hello?" she called.  
Killian closed his eyes tightly. Even her voice was far more appealing than he had ever imagined. The beast within him urged his body to go toward her, to meet her, but he kept the beast at bay.  
"Hello?" she called again, raising her voice.  
Killian shuddered as it coursed through his ears down to his core. He dug his talons into the tree, rooting himself in place.  
As she stood in the empty clearing, she stroked the scars on her neck absentmindedly. He pressed his head against the trunk. He growled low, trying to get the imagination of her fingers running through his hair from his mind.  
"Mom?"  
"Emma!" Red called.  
Emma. Of course she would have a name to match her beauty. He longed to have her name on his lips, to give in to the beasts desires, but he was more than the beast. And she had already been scared by one werewolf, Killian refused to do the same to her.  
She turned toward their voices and Red and her son came into the clearing. "I'm right here, Henry!"  
"What happened?" the boy-Henry-asked. He looked very little like his mother. Dark hair, but the same intensity in his eyes, though a different color. The boy seemed to take after his father. Killian could sense the same beast within the boy that had attacked his mother. Yet this beast was dormant. The boy was unaware of his origins.  
"I thought I saw someone I knew." she answered truthfully. Emma looked around the clearing again. It was a feeble attempt. She couldn't see Killian above her, nor have any notion that that he was above her. She sighed heavily and shook her head. "But it looks like I was wrong. We better get back before Granny gets worried."  
Henry nodded and turned around for the cabin. Red and Emma lingered in the clearing as the boy retreated. Red stepped beside Emma and leaned in, so not to give the boy any indication that something was amiss.  
"What is it?" she whispered.  
"I...I thought I saw him." Emma whispered.  
Red's eyes drifted up to the treetops, though it went unnoticed by Emma. "Him? You mean-"  
Emma nodded, but remained silent.  
"Maybe you're just seeing things, Emma?" Red suggested.  
"Mom!" Henry called.  
Red lightly touched Emma's arm. "It was a long time ago Emma, Maybe it's time you forget that night." She moved away from Emma and followed Henry toward the cabin.  
Emma remained where she stood for a moment longer. She cast a look over her shoulder, taking in the clearing one last time. She seemed determined to find what she was looking for. But after a few passing moments of seeing nothing, she relinquished her resolved with a defeated sigh. She took a slow step backward, leading toward the Lucas cabin, though her eyes remained on the clearing.  
"Mom!"  
"I'm coming, Henry!" Emma turned around completely and headed toward the cabin. She paused one final time and looked back into the clearing. "Thank you."


	14. Tar

He should have listened to her. Why had the man been too stubborn to listen to her? She was a target, she would always be a target. She was creature of magic and thus, a creature not to be trusted. But he wouldn't listen. He had believed that if he could see the good in her, then others would too. It would only take them time. She had wanted to believe him for so long, but she could not longer believe him. Not now. Not after what they'd done to him.  
Emma had begged him not to travel alone at night, especially not without her. But Killian had been adamant on traveling that night to their neighbors. He was concerned for her health, which had seemed to be on the decline in his opinion. She hadn't told him the reason, she'd wanted to surprise him at the perfect moment. After another bout of sickness, Killian had decided it was time to ask their neighbors, the Nolan's, for help.  
Emma held no ill wishes for their neighbors. They were good people, shepherds, who were the firsts to befriend Killian and herself. They often traded goods and works with one another. Mary Margaret was even aware of Emma's condition, having learned it before Emma knew. So it was not the involvement of her neighbors that concerned her, but the risk he was taking in traveling the mile distance to see them. Though the Nolan's enjoyed their company, others did not. And she feared for his safety. He had insistent that he would be safe, that he could handle whatever was thrown his way. That he was a survivor. But now, even surviving may not be a possibility for him anymore.  
Emma brushed a stray tear from her cheek as she reached for the warm cloth. She carefully removed it from Killian's forehead and dipped it into a bowl of cool water beside the bed. She soaked the cloth for a moment before ringing out the water and returning the cloth to Killian's feverish forehead. His stirred for a brief moment before stilling once more.  
He lay in their bed, sheet drawn to his waist. His chest and arms were wrapped in bandages that needed changing. His neck was wrapped in soaking rags to help combat the fever. Her pillow lay beneath what remained of his left arm, propping the stump. His dark hair lay against his sweat soaked scalp. His chapped lips parted enough for only a small gap to breathe through. His right hand was clenched into a fist, gripping the sheet with white knuckles. Looking at him lying so helpless brought another bout of tears to her eyes. Emma wiped them away with a fury, only to have more fall. She couldn't believe the world could be so cruel to them.  
From David's words, Killian had nearly reached the Nolan's farm when he'd been attacked. They'd physically beaten him into submission, broken ribs and bones to keep him still. Then they tarred him. The tar the mob had spread over his body had been scalding, burning his flesh from the heat. She had heard his agonizing screams miles down the road, and known it was him. She could still feel that moment fear swept through her body for him. Even now those screams still echoed through her mind. By the time David had broken through, the damage had been done. Hunch over David's shoulder, Killian had hung, barely holding onto the threads of consciousness, covered in smoking tar and feathers. Yet when she ran to him, through all the pain, Killian had managed to smile up at her.  
Removing the tar had been the hardest part. Since it had burned the flesh, peeling back the tar peeled off the skin as well. The open wounds had brought about an infection that had taken his left hand and now threatened to take Killian's life.  
Emma had stayed by his side every moment she could. She paused only in her bouts of sickness, long enough her steady herself and return to tending to her husband. Mary Margaret joined her in the day, giving Emma a few hours to sleep or rest. Other days she brought food and would leave until Emma had eaten enough for herself and the baby.  
More tears spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn't care anymore. She didn't bother to wipe them away or try to stop them. She didn't have it in her to be strong anymore. Emma buried her face into her hands and sobbed as hard as she could. The fear creeped through her body like a plague. She couldn't got on without him. He was her rock and her courage.  
A rough touch ghosted her arm, ending her outburst. Emma lifted her eyes to find herself gazing into a storm of blue. They were weak and ill, but he was still with her. Beaten, bloodied, and sick, Killian managed enough strength to smile at her. He struggled to raise his hand, reached up to her cheek, and gently wiped the tears aware.  
"I told you love, I'm a survivor." He whispered.  
In that moment, Emma knew. He wasn't going to leave her. Ever.


	15. High Sea's

Killian Jones had had his fair share of piracy in his life. As an officer of the Royal Navy, he often spent many voyages searching for the most vilest of men on the high seas. He had come face to face with the darkest of men. One who took no quarter, left none alive as he raided and pillaged. They claimed he was as heartless as the devil himself, not sparing a second thought of those he killed or harmed. Killian had seen monstrous sights of what the monster had left behind, ones that he wished to forget. But there was nothing short of drowning ones mind in rum, in order to forget the carnage and nightmares that were the wake of Captain Blackbeard.  
Killian and his men had fund the ship adrift in the wake of a storm. The winds had battered the sails so much, there was no hope of repairing them. When his men had notified him of its status, Jones had thought nothing of Blackbeard when he gave the order to investigate. Often times the crews had abandoned the ship and left it to the sea. Jones could hardly ignore the ship on the possibilities that there were survivors. But as the Jewel of the Realm drew near, the feeling throughout the entire crew shifted. As they anchored the Jolly to the adrift ship, the crew caught the first glimpse of what had transpired aboard the ship prior to the storm.  
Jones and several of his men boarded the vessel. He gave a difficult swallow. His right hand lingered over the hilt of his sword as his eyes fell to the remains of the crew. The men had been brutally beaten. They were beyond recognition. The facial structure of each man had been broken during the fight. blood still lingered on some, unable to have been watched away in the storm. Their uniforms remained stained in their blood.  
"Mr. Smee." Jones called.  
"Yes Captain?"  
"Take a few men below deck, see if there are survivors." he ordered.  
"Survivors, captain?" Smee asked.  
Jones turned to the smaller man. Mr. Smee was not accustomed to the life of a Naval officer, but he had made the choice rather than spend his remaining years in the Royal dungeon. He was headache at times, but Killian found the man to be useful. "I want the entire ship searched for survivors."  
Mr. Smee nodded quickly. "Aye Captain."  
Jones turned his attention back toward the helm where the helmsman had been disemboweled. He knelt beside the dead helmsman. His body had been stripped of everything of value, leaving him in a disheveled state. His eyes were still opened, gazing fearfully out toward his attacker. It was not long ago that Jones had nearly given into revenge after his brothers death, but by some miracle, Killian had pulled himself out of the darkness and became the man his brother would have been proud of. He was a man of honor. To do such an act upon a fellow officer was nothing short of monstrous. He reached out and closed the mans eyes. he remained by the man's side a moment longer, his mind searching for answers. They had been attacked. Pirates attacked naval ships, there was no denying the fact, but to leave the crew in a state as this. This was beyond what was necessary.  
"Captain!" called Mr. Smee from below deck.  
The panic and urgency of Smee's voice quickly sent Captain Jones from the helmsman. He bolted from the helm toward the stairwell leading below deck. He reached the hatch right as Mt. Smee staggered out. The man was visibly shaken and paled by what he had seen. He paused upon nearly colliding with his Captain. Before Jones could even open his mouth to question the man, Smee scurried away toward the water, retching. Jones' mood grew worse watching his first mate retch over the side of the ship. There was not much that could drive his men to such a state. Steeling himself up, Jones plunged below deck.  
The stench of death immediately assaulted him. unprepared for such an assault, Jones quickly covered his mouth from the smell. It took only a moment for Killian to realize that the stench was not of spoiled goods, but of passengers. He and his men had believed they had seen the worst above deck, but they had not. The ship was a passenger ship, carrying people across the sea with their few belongings. Jones looked to his remaining men, who all seemed to be struggling with keeping their sickness down.  
"Merciful god." he muttered.  
The passengers had been rounded up below deck. Men and women were separated out. Families torn apart, mothers taken from their children. Children. Jones always held a spot in his heart for them, growing up as he did. He could not fathom what the children endured on the ship. They were lodged further back on the ship, Jones could one of his men in back with them. He held no hope that the children had been spared their lives. He only prayed they'd ben spared the death as brutal as their parents.  
Like the sailors found on deck, the men had been beaten beyond need, stripped of their possessions, and left in a humiliating state. Each one run through, left the bleed out shackled to one another.  
The women faired far, far worse. The briefest of glimpses toward their gathered remains was more than enough to engrave itself into his mind for eternity. Their clothes had all but been ripped from their bodies, leaving tattered strips of cloth that could hardly be used as rags. Each one had been brutally and repeatedly assaulted. Some had been bruised on their faces, others were bound, but the final act was all the same. Jones could hardly stomach the sight of the women, and quickly averted his eyes from them. There was no doubt he would soon dream of the nightmare he'd stumbled upon.  
Mr. Smee returned below deck, but kept his eyes averted from the slaughter. "It's him, isn't it Captain?"  
Killian could only nod. "Aye, Mr. Smee. It's him."  
"Your orders, sir?"  
"Gather the officers below deck with the passengers. Have some of the men bring the remains of the main sail. We'll use it as a shroud for them. We give them an honorable burial and set the ship ablaze." Jones ordered.  
"And Blackbeard?"  
"He's still broad, Mr. Smee. Pray we find before he-"  
"Captain! We've got a survivor!" called one of his men.  
Jones quickly turned toward him man. He was kneeling on the floor at the corner o the stairwell. Jones moved quickly across the deck toward his man. He knelt down and inspecting the findings, unknowing what awaited him.  
One of the woman had found the strength to drag herself to the stairwell. She had not escaped the beating of the assault. Her face of bruised, bloodied, and beaten. A several streaks of blood traveled along her face to the deck. Her golden strands were a filthy tangled mess. But nonetheless, the woman had managed to use her body to shield a small boy from the brutality of Blackbeard's crew. The boy was no more than four years old, and a small lad to boot. Messy brown hair stuck up from his small head as he looked up from his mother's body. Killian could hardly believe that the boy had survived the onslaught of the pirates and the storm. Either the boy was very strong, or the gods had seen him through.  
"Lad?" he asked. "I'm Captain Killian Jones. We're here to help."  
The boy looked down at his mother.  
"Can you tell me your name, lad?" he tried again.  
The boy didn't answer. Instead, the reached out a small arm and slowly shook his mother's arm, trying to wake her. Killian's heart went out to the young boy. No child should ever have to see their parents in such a state.  
"Lad-" but Killian's words died on his lips when the woman stirred beneath her son's touch. It was small. A twitch of her fingers. A furrow in her brow. The woman was still alive! Killian fell this heart leap in his chest. He all but tore the coat from his body. "Mr. Smee, have the doctor report to my quarters immediately. Tell him there was two survivors that require immediate attention." He wrapped his coat around the woman's body. Again, the woman seemed to stir, still clinging to a small thread of life. "Mr. Hendricks, bring the lad." He gingerly lifted the woman into his arms. A weak, but pained moan escaped her lips. Killian hurriedly ascended onto the main deck and boarded his ship in a fraction of the time it had taken to board.  
He rushed toward his quarters, easing himself below deck. The time passed, the more alive the woman seemed to be. And she seemed to be in a great deal of pain. He carefully placed her upon his bed, drawing the sheets over her body. He caught the sound of footsteps and turned to see Hendricks descending with the boy. The boy quickly scurried out of Hendricks' grasp and climbed beside his mother. The woman seemed to sense her son was beside her and curled her body protectively around him.  
"Captain..." Hendricks stared unsurely. "what can we do?"  
Killian watched the mother and son slowly. Even on deaths door, the woman protected her son, unwilling to relent for the smallest of moments. "They had the will to survive, Hendricks. We can only hope their will to live is stronger."


End file.
